


Welcome to Firelink Town

by TinchoSabala



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I, Dark Souls III
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Covenants do exist, F/M, Firelink is a Town, Friendship, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Original side-characters, Won't explicitly follow the lore/canon, not sure what to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinchoSabala/pseuds/TinchoSabala
Summary: The stories of the inhabitants of the small town of Firelink, where everyone knows each other and strangers are scarce and dangerous.
Relationships: Artorias the Abysswalker/Lord's Blade Ciaran, Lautrec of Carim/Darkmoon Knightess, Oscar of Astora/Anri of Astora, Rickert of Vinheim/Witch Beatrice
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Stories from Zena

**Author's Note:**

> There aren't that many modern AU fics about Dark Souls, and I really like them, so I decided to make one  
> I don't recommend following this work, since I'm not constant with the chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the perfect night for a story in Patches' Trusty Trove, and the peddler Domnhall of Zena has the perfect tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay. I wrote the first chapter for this.

It was freezing cold in Firelink Town, with the wind howling and rain falling on top of Patches' Trusty Trove, the only place to get a drink so late at night. A bonfire was set in the middle of the room, giving some much-needed warmth to the place.  
The usual clients were sitting around it, instead of in the tables, which had been arranged to make space for everyone around the fire. The gentle and happy Solaire of Astora, Siegward and Siegmeyer, the two Onion Knights, and Siegmeyer’s daughter, Sieglinde, the three of them with a mug of siegbräu. Griggs, the only one who had only drunk a glass of water, his master Logan, and it seemed they had managed to bring Rickert from his house, quite an achievement indeed. Next to him was Domnhall of Zena, cleaning the cup he had brought for himself, and Oscar of Astora, sitting next to his cousin and lifelong friend, Solaire.  
Anri was there too, tasting Sieglinde’s siegbräu, and Horace, the only one standing up, behind her. Hawkwood was already sleeping with bottles of Estus overflowing his lap and the table he had occupied. On a chair, was Artorias, since he was free for the night, next to Ciaran and Ornstein, the latter mocking him for not touching the floor.  
Las but not least, the nameless Firekeeper who worked there as the only barmaid, was cleaning the tables and collecting empty mugs and cups. Patches, meanwhile, finished arranging the tables and went to sit with the others.  
Of course, this was not devoid of meaning, as it had been a tradition for years in Patcher Trusty Trove for in freezing cold, windy and raining nights, to do the one thing one could do in such a situation. To tell a story.  
“So,” Patches started. “who’s got a story to tell tonight? I got one in mind, of course, but y’all probably know more stuff than lil’ old me.”  
“I got one about knights” Said Sieglinde, as always. “About the adventures of the Knights of Catarina of old.” Everyone made a weird face, except Siegmeyer, who looked at her daughter with pride.  
Patches dismissed her completely. “The Onion Knights were just a bunch of drunks who would swing huge swords and accidentally kill the king of who-knows-where.”  
Griggs stood up. “Do any of you know any stories about the sorcerers of Vinheim?” At this, Logan scoffed. “I’d tell you everything there is to know about Vinheim, lad. And trust me, it’s nothing but boring idiots realizing there’s world beyond books” He said.  
At this, Rickert looked away from his phone and laughed with scorn. “Aren’t you one of those idiots, though?” Logan swinged his arm at him, but he was too slow and old for the young Rickert, who simply moved away to sit next to Oscar.  
Anri suddenly perked up. “I got one.” Everyone looked at her with interest. Anri never told any stories, but when she did, they were worth the time. “It’s about an old king who tries to reach the sky.”  
Oscar tilted his head and looked at her. “I think I know which one you’re talking about…” He said. “But it’s not about the sky, the king wants to become a god.” Anri seemed confused at this. “If you say so. Why don’t you tell it? You're better at it than me, anyways”  
Oscar suddenly noticed 13 eyes on him. He put his helmet on and started muttering incoherent nonsense that nobody could hear, until Domnhall rose up.  
“I’ll tell it” Claimed the peddler. “It’s an old tale from Zena, and it’s a damn good one. Thanks you two for refreshing my mind about it.” He looked at the two Elite Knights.  
“So, it goes like this” Started Domnhall. “there was once this old king, who ruled over thousands of mountains, rivers, deserts and forests. He ruled over the old, the young, the proud and the wise. In his castle was contained all of the knowledge in the world, and for him worked the greatest men and women to ever grace the earth.”  
“However, he was still only man. The old king had done many things and created such a vast and wealthy kingdom in an attempt to become like the gods, who lived in golden cities, atop the clouds, watching over people like him like meaningless insects. But the king, with his prosperous lands, his intelligent and benevolent subjects and his magnificent palaces, wasn’t even close to the gods’ glory.”  
“So the king thought he had to do something…different. He decided to build a great ladder, to reach the sky and the gods” At this, Sieglinde laughed, breaking the silence momentarily, before the took another chug of her siegbräu. “A ladder?” Asked Artorias. “Wouldn’t it be better for it to be a tower?” Ornstein, besides him, nodded.  
Downhill shrugged. “This is how the story goes. It’s old, thus it’s inevitable for it to contain…weird elements. Such as a ladder to the sky.” He laughed at this, but continued. “Anyways, he called to every blacksmith, every carpenter, every laddersmith and everyone wiling to work hard and with strength in their arms, and they started making the ladder. The king himself worked as hard as everyone else, and after years of tremendous work, they had achieved a ladder that could reach the sky.”  
“As such, the king started to climb the ladder, but as he was close to the top, the gods fired their wrath upon him, and he fell, along with the ladder, that broke and killed many men who had spent their lives making it.” He looked around, observing his audience’s reactions. “But the king did not die, for it was not the will of the gods. But, he did not relent either. With the men he had left, he set to building another ladder, stronger than the last one. This time, he even conscripted children and women for the task-” “Hey!” Ciaran interrupted. “Women can be just as strong and hardworking as men!” Patches laughed slightly, Artorias sighed Ornstein only rolled his eyes, causing Ciaran to slap him, and Anri nodded. Domnhall chuckled, but continued. “He even conscripted women, who, as Ciaran rightly affirms, can be just as strong and hardworking as every man alive. Thank you very much Ciaran, for enlightening our minds. Now please refrain yourself from interrupting the story.” The Lord's Blade now seemed a bit embarrased, as everyone minus the storyteller was looking at her.  
“Anyhow, the ladder this time was much grander, and it had the will of a thousand men and women imbued on it, so it would surely stand anything the gods were to throw at it.”  
“Indeed, with the new ladder, the now incredibly old king reached the city of the gods, and he was astounded by its relics, its buildings and its inhabitants.” Downhill snatched a half-full estus from Hawkwood’s lap and gulped it all at once, then he continued. “He came across the gods, and asked them dearly if he could be one of them. He told them of his sacrifices, of his wishes, and of his prosperous kingdom.”  
“The gods looked at him and said: ‘Why would we want somebody like you, who would abandon his people for his own wishes? Now leave this sacred city, return to your world and look around yourself, so you might learn something!’ With this, they expelled the king back to the earth.”  
“Again in his kingdom, the old king saw what the gods meant. Thousands had died while making the ladder. He had neglected his people, and now the lands were ruined, thieves and brigands were running wild through the once great cities, and the king’s wife had died while doing so.”  
“He then looked to a young couple who, amidst the chaos, were smiling and kissing. And so, the king wondered. If a young man could be happy with only a woman, why couldn’t he, an old, decrepit man, be happy with a whole kingdom?” 

Everyone stayed silent. Patches started clapping, although nobody else followed him. “That’s a great story right there, mate. Haven’t heard one so good since Solaire told us that fairy tale about the Nameless King!”  
Ornstein snapped at him. “That was not a story, you bald creep! I’m telling you, the Firstborn is alive! He did kill the dragons, and he did betray his father, and then he went and founded the Warriors of Sunlight! Would there be Warriors of Sunlight if the Firstborn wasn’t real? NO!” Patches only laughed while Solaire and Artorias kept the Dragonslayer from stabbing Patches with his spear, which he brought everywhere.  
Domnhall ignored what was happening and chuckled at Patches’ comment. “Well, I have our honorable knights to thank” He signaled to Oscar and Anri. “It is indeed an old story from my homeland, I had forgotten about it until Anri mentioned it. Tell me, where do you two know that story from?”  
“My father told me about it, once. He then said ‘Don’t be like that king, son!’ And that’s why I became an Elite Knight. You can’t access any kind of politics as one, even if it is an empty title otherwise.” Siegmeyer and Siegward both laughed at it, and Logan smiled, something rare these days.  
“And you, Anri?” Asked Ciaran. Anri was one of the youngest in the group, along with Oscar and Griggs, but unlike them, she was a parentless child who escaped the orphanage with Horace. They'd lived together ever since.  
“Well…” The girl stared at the ground, and she unconsciously caressed Horace’s leg. “Horace…told me about it…in the cathedral...before he…you know…” The man in question only nodded, and nobody pushed the matter further.  
“Well!” Said Patches rubbing his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tonight was a good night, and there’s nothing I’d wish more than to be able to retain you all here, but…” He looked at Hawkwood, still asleep, and Solaire immediately grabbed him, to deliver him home. “I need to close up the shop, clean your mess and pay the Firekeeper. So, bye-bye!”  
Everyone then left, except Domnhall, who had a deal with Patches to let him stay in the place, since he had nowhere to go.  
The inn’s owner looked at Domnhall. “That’s a really, really good story, mate. For it, this time I’ll let you stay for free.” Domnhall thanked him, of course, while taking another chug of Estus. “The kids ought to learn more from it. To neglect others because of yourself…that’s far too common and way too bad. You know what I mean.”  
Domnhall nodded, smiling. “Indeed. I’ll help you put some order to this place. The least I can do.”  
An hour or so later, the Firekeeper had gone home, Patches and Domnhall left alone.  
“So…how does it end?” Asked Patches. “What do you mean?” The peddler was a bit confused. “Oh, you know, what happens to the king?” Patches rubbed his neck, it wasn’t usual for him to be this curious about stuff. “Oh. The king dies of old age.” Downhill yawned. “Really?” Patches had a look of disbelief, then he laughed fiercely. “That’s just perfect. G’night, mate.”  
Domnhall was already half-way through the stairs that led to his room, and yawned again. “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is.  
> I will be making more stories, with the characters from DS1 and DS3 mostly, DS2 I'm not as familiar with.  
> I won't be necessarily following the lore, I will take a _lot_ of liberties.


	2. Watchers, Dragons...gives me conniptions...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artorias find unexpected help on his patrols by Farron's Undead Legion, and urges Hawkwood to join them again.  
> However, the deserter soon finds that his old comrades aren't the worst thing he has to endure for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things like Astora, Carim, Catarina, all of those places, and even areas like Anor Londo, New Londo, Oolacile, are all different parts of the city.

Artorias sat down in a wooden bench in Firelink plaza, below some trees that blocked the sun and let out a sigh of relief, Sif settled down next to him and started sleeping. Today hadn’t been anything demanding for Artorias, but it was an incredibly hot day, and he had spent the entire morning walking around the city in most of his armor, carrying his greatsword and his greatshield, while making sure Sif didn’t go chasing after garbage or food in the ground.  
Technically, this wasn’t Artorias’ job. He was one of Gwyn’s Four Knights, and he should be guarding the palace of Anor Londo, in the centre of the city. But, ever since he had to deal with a plague and a bunch of Darkwraiths in the now under reconstruction district of New Londo, alone, the title of Wolf Knight was empty. He was Artorias the Abysswalker, and he spent his time roaming Firelink Town in search of any remnants of the plague, or even worse, Darkwraiths, who would sometimes ambush travelers coming in and out of the city.  
He had been doing this for years now, and while he did sometimes request help from his friends, the Warriors of Sunlight, or even the old war veteran Slave Knight Gael, his usual companion was Sif.  
As such, it came as a surprise when a fellow almost as tall as him, with a pointy hat and a greatsword that was suspiciously similar to his own approached him, Artorias was, to say the least, bewildered.  
“Sir Wolf Knight Artorias, sir. Nothing to report in this area of the city, sir.” The man spoke in a military tone that the Abysswalker was all too familiar with.  
“Excuse me, who are you?” Asked Artorias.  
“Sir, I’m Darius of Farron’s Undead Legion, sir. I’m a commander of the Abyss Watchers, sir.”  
That was…weird. The Abyss had been what ha infected New Londo, but Artorias was pretty sure that he stopped it from spreading with Beatrice’s help. Sif woke up by now, and she looked at Darius with indifference. That was a good sign, at least.  
“And, tell me…Darius…what do you mean you have nothing to report?”  
“Sir, there are no signs of Darkwraith activity or spread of the Abyss in the area, sir. Now, if you’ll permit my leave, I need to get back to my comrades to continue patrolling the city.”  
Artorias stood up, confused. “But…I’m the one patroling…that’s what I’ve been doing for years now…alone.”  
The man laughed, expressing feelings for the first time. “Sir, that is the reason we are here. Us, the Abyss Watchers from Farron’s Undead Legion have been amazed by your work in this city both in New Londo and keeping Darkwraiths away, and pledge ourselves to you, Sir Wolf Knight Artorias. Now, may I leave, sir?”  
Something then hit Artorias. He knew who this people were. He had listened to Hawkwood talk about them an awful lot when he first arrived.  
“Darius, you may now continue your work. Take Sif with you. She’ll show you paths and corridors you’d never found by yourselves.” He then started sprinting to Hawkwood's house, leaving both the wolf and Darius blinking and baffled.

Twenty minutes later, the Abysswalker was knocking at Hawkwood’s door. The man opened, with his usual long face and still in pajamas. He invited Artorias to come in, and they sat down at Hawkwood’s sofa. There was a paused video game, some snacks and a can of bear and a mug of siegbräu on the table. The house wasn’t exactly big, and he shared it with Siegward, who wasn’t there at the moment.  
“Arty, what bring you here?” Started Hawkwood. He sounded tired, as usual, but Artorias hoped that with what he was about to say, he'd be able to raise the man’s spirits.  
“Hawkwood, you were part of the Abyss Watchers of Farron, right?”  
Hawkwood looked at Artorias with a mix of anger, irritation and sadness. “I wish I hadn’t been.”  
“Well, they’re here!” Hawkwood stood up, alarmed.  
“What?”  
“Farron’s Undead Legion, it’s here! They’re help-”  
“We are doomed! Why?!? WHY ARE THEY HERE?!? Shit, the must have come for me…that asshole of Erron must have become the new leader” He grabbed a bastard sword lying on the ground, beneath the sofa, and his shield, hung up on a wall. “Arty, the Abyss Watchers don’t go to places for fucking vacation. They’re gonna kill us all, then burn down the city, then flood it or some other crap, we need to leave, now!”  
Artorias stopped his friend. “What? Hawkwood, no, they’re here to help!”  
“To help us die!”  
“No, no, Hawkwood, they’re helping me watch over the city!”  
Hawkwood stopped trying to put on his chainmail. “Ah. Oh, oh…” He sighed heavily and sat on the sofa again. “That’s…relieving, really. Uh…good for you, Arty! they’re relentless, you’ll see. I bet you’re barely gonna do anything now, heh…but nobody is gonna attack the city in ten centuries, that’s for sure…So…if you’ve got nothing else to say…”  
“Hawkwood.” Artorias wasn’t done. The arrival of the Abyss Watchers certainly hadn’t had the effect he had hoped, but he still had to try one thing. “I’d like you to join the Legion again.”  
Hawkwood started laughing. It was the third time Artorias had ever heard him laugh.  
“Are you mad, Arty? Did the Abyss start filling your head now? I’ve deserted the Legion. They would kill me if they saw me again. And even if they did allow me to join them again, it’d be hell for me. There’s a reason I left, Artorias.”  
But Artorias wouldn’t stop. He was stubborn and steadfast, and after an hour of arguing and convincing, Hawkwood had his bastard sword and his shield in hand, and was following Artorias to Firelink Plaza.

There, they met again with Darius, who was next to two more Abyss Watchers, who all looked exactly the same, and Sif.  
The Abyss Watchers kneeled before Artorias.  
“Sir Wolf Knight Artorias, sir, nothing to report yet, sir.” Darius then looked up, and saw Hawkwood, clearly nervous, almost hiding behind his shield and his sword. “If I may be so bold, sir, the man next to you is Hawkwood. The Deserter.” He said the last words with venom enough to rot all of New Londo again. “He’s a coward, and a treacherous man. Right now, sir, he may appear to be your friend, but he will flee when danger rises.”  
Artorias kicked Darius. “First. No, you may not be so bold. Second, Hawkwood is my friend, and I’m giving him another chance. Third, everyone has been afraid at some point, idiot. Don’t tell me you’ve never felt it. A longing for home, and your loved ones, right there when you’re facing death. And fourth, I’m the one in charge here, Darius. If you don’t want that, you and your club of fanboys can leave this city.”  
Darius stood up, and kneeled again. “Sir, I am sorry, sir.” He muttered, but he still looked at Hawkwood with hatred. The other two Abyss Watchers seemed indifferent, but a small glint in their eyes could be seen, of what, was unknown.  
And so, Hawkwood was stuck with a troop of three “fanboys”, along with him, to watch over the city. Thankfully, one of them, a woman named Coshany, had been a friend of his, and didn’t hold as much resentment as the rest of the Legion. They spent some time catching up, Hawkwood found out that he wasn’t the only deserter, and that a pact with a crystal sage had been made. Just what he needed, now the Legion knew how to do magic.

They scoured through the Astoran neighborhood, tasked by Artorias himself. Hawkwood thought that it was to ease the tension between the deserter and the Watchers, as literally nothing ever happened in Astora. He did meet Oscar and Anri, who were practicing their swordfight, the former being absolutely demolished by Anri.  
He also greeted Andre, who knew Hawkwood for a long time, and seemed impressed that he was back with the Legion. He gifted him an old swordgrass he had made by himself, in case something of the sort happened.  
Lastly, he met with Solaire. Solaire congratulated Hawkwood, and he even decided to accompany them. When the other Watchers refused, Solaire said he’d do as a Warrior of Sunlight, as he hadn’t received any other requests from help by anyone.  
And thus, the four men and a woman continued, until they reached the bridge that connected Astora with the Sunlight Altar.  
It was here that Solaire said goodbye to the group, and he walked through the bridge, headed for the Altar, to offer some Sunlight Medals.

But, just before reaching the Altar, Coshany let out an incredibly loud gasp, and unsheathed her Old Wolf Curved Sword. The other Abyss Watchers followed her, and took out their weapons. Hawkwood took out his bastard sword as well, even though he hadn’t seen any Darkwraith, and left his Farron Greatsword on his back.  
A moment later, everyone saw what had alerted Coshany. A bright-red drake came from behind the Sunlight Altar, and attempted to stomp Solaire. Thankfully, the jolly knight was quick, and he’d rolled out of the way even before the Watchers were alerted, and he was already chanting for his Great Lightning Spear.  
Hawkwood didn’t allow himself to be shocked like his companions, he had to think fast. As skilled as the Watchers were, Coshany and the rest would be no match for the wyvern. Solaire could and would stand his ground for an eternity, but he’d never be able to kill the drake alone. Hawkwood himself wasn’t such a shabby swordsman, and having a shield meant he could actually fight the beast, unlike his shieldless companions, since the bridge was to narrow for their fighting style.  
Still, Hawkwood and Solaire against a wyvern were terrible odds too…they’d be needing help from Artorias or Ornstein.  
“Coshany” He called, his voice a little bit more shaky than what he’d liked. Thankfully, she was trembling was well, and heeded his call. “Go for Artorias with the other two. Tell him to bring Ornstein as well. Solaire and me will keep this bastard busy.”  
“B-but…we can help you too, Hawkwood! There’s no way you can beat this wyvern with the jolly man!”  
Hawkwood smirked. “See, dear, I have a shield, and you three don’t. So, in other words, you’re kinda fucked. And don’t underestimate Solaire. Now go, for the Old Wolf’s sake.”  
Coshany nodded, still shaking, and left the place with the other two. Hawkweed reached Solaire, just in time to duck the wyvern’s fire.

“I thought we’d be counting with numerical advantage.” Said the Warrior of Sunlight.  
“That thing’s bigger than a hundred leggionaries. Now shut up, we need to keep him busy ‘till Arty comes. Can you hold him down with your lightning?” They both rolled backwards, dodging the drake’s claws.  
Solaire only laughed. “Of course I do. Us, Warriors of Sunlight are trained in the ways of the Firstborn. In other words, killing dragons is technically our real job.” He stopped for a moment, deflecting more fire with his shield. “I’ll keep him focused on myself. You can sneak behind and cut his tail off. I heard that a wyvern’s tail can be quite valuable, after all…”  
With this, the two men focused on the battle. The lacking width of the bridge provided to be an obstacle for Hawkwood when it came to sneaking from behind. Solaire was doing an amazing job, deflecting the sunlight into the wyvern’s eyes with his shield, and shooting lightning whenever it tried to move.  
Eventually, Hawkwood managed to get to the tail. He stabbed it with his bastard sword, but nothing happened. He started slapping it, which caused the wyvern to frenzy. It even started flying, with Hawkwood hanging by his sword, etched into the animal.  
Solaire, however, did not panick, and hurled an accurate lightning spear into the wyvern’s tail, making it fall off along with Hawkwood. However, the wyvern swept in again, breathing fire. Hawkwood was caught by it, and he had to chug his Estus twice to ease the pain. Solaire decided to go on the offensive then. He slashed at the wyvern’s claws and it’s legs, but to no avail.  
He rolled back to Hawkwood when the beast breathed fire again.  
“Nothing’s working, Hawkwood!” His tone now lacked the usual confidence, and he was breathing with effort.  
Hawkwood took a moment to think. “Solaire, how many lightning bolts do you have left?”  
“Only the last verse, about the Dragonslayer, is left, so one.” Solaire took out his talisman, and wiped the sweat from his face.  
“Alright then, we have one chance, you hear me?” He then told Solaria of his plan.  
Moments later, Hawkwood was hanging by the side of the bridge, while Solaire deflected the sunlight into the wyvern, enough to irritate it.  
As expected, the wyvern opened his mouth to spew fire on Solaire.  
“ _O Great Dargonslayer, grant me your fire, so that my enemies shall be pierced by the Sun’s Spear!_ ” The man shouted, the last verse for the Great Lightning Spear, and hurled the ray of sun into the wyvern’s mouth.  
The beast flinched, and Hawkwood started climbing onto its back, using his sword to not fall off. A small explosion occurred inside the drake, not nearly enough to kill it, but enough so that the warrior could get atop it’s head.  
“Useless dragons messing with people at random…as if that were to ever amount to somethin’, heh…” Said Hawkwood, raising his Farron Greatsword above the wyvern’s head.  
“…gives me conniptions…” He then sunk the blade deep into the beast’s skull, making it cry and scream, but a second later, it fell into a placid dream it would never wake from.

Hawkwood hopped back onto the bridge, to be hugged by Solaire.  
“Ah, I can’t believe you actually did it, my friend. Congratulations. Defeating a dragon is no easy task.”  
“Hehe, it wasn’t a dragon, though…” Hawkwood smiled, happy to be alive.  
“Ah, but that’s not what we’ll tell Patches when he asks, is it?” Solaire let out his usual laugh, but Hawkwood doubted the man was only joking.  
However, the Deserter got away from Solaire, as Artorias had arrived, along with Ornstein, and Coshany and the Abyss Watchers. Darius was among them as well.  
“Well now. You called me for nothing, Arty! And Smough was just starting to learn _Truco_! I swear, this is the last time I ever listen to your pleas of help!” Ornstein told Artorias, and both of them laughed. He then faced Hawkwood. “Seems you did a good job here, Hawk. I’d never expected the Hellkite Wyvern to come for a visit, but it’s true it likes to mess with everyone’s lives. You’ve freed us from, honestly, quite a bother. For that, Hawkwood of Farron’s Undead Legion, I thank you.”  
Darius then stepped forward, nudged by Artorias.  
“It seems I judged you wrong, Hawkwood. It is true that time changes who we are, and you have done a deed much greater than most of us have ever managed to do. For that, I owe you an apology, and offer you a position as one of the Abyss Watchers’ commanders.” He kneeled, and so did the other Abyss Watchers. Coshany winked at him and smiled, as well.  
Hawkwood was speechless. He thanked Ornstein muttering something about luck and whatnot, and then faced Darius.  
He breathed in and out twice, and then politely declined his offer.  
“What?!?” Darius was confounded. Even slightly irritated, it would seem to Hawkwood.  
“I don’t want to be a commander. In fact, excuse me Arty, I think I’ll be leaving the Legion.”  
Artorias sighed, but shrugged. Darius had fainted, and his companions were carrying him back to their headquarters.  
“Fair enough…” Said the Abysswalker, resigned. “I owe you one for today, anyways. But then, what are you gonna actually do?”  
Hawkwood didn’t have to think much about it. “I’ll be a Sunbro, like Solaire.”  
Artorias blinked twice, but then laughed. He said farewell to Solaire and Hawkwood, and left with Ornstein, who didn’t stop talking about how Smough failed spectacularly at Truco. Then, he turned to Solaire.  
“I cannot say wether you chose right or wrong, my friend, but I am glad.” That was an understatement. Solaire was ecstatic, the fatigue from the recent battle gone. “Now, let us pray at the Sunlight Altar. But I must warn you, Hawkwood. We, Warriors of Sunlight not only dedicate ourselves to vanquishing the foes of our comrades…” He gave Hawkwood a funny look. “You will receive requests from any kind of people for help at anything, from tidying a room to being a bodyguard, and trust me, you better not refuse any of them!”  
Hawkwood let out a disappointed “ _aaaw_ ”, while Solaire laughed once again, and both of them entered the Altar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Truco_ is an argentinian card game- very fun, unless you're really bad at hiding your emotions and lying.  
> It might appear again in another one of these.  
> Farron is outside of Firelink.  
> I think that, to use miracles, the user needs to say a prayer, corresponding to the miracle. That's why Solaire's uses of Great Lightning Spear are tied to the verses, and why he says stuff about the Great Dragonslayer (just a random dragonslayer from the war of the dragons. It did happen, and Ornstein was in it, yes.) before using it.   
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I like this one a lot.


	3. Embraced by Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lautrec had a terrible life. He was poor, and was forced to survive in the dark, dangerous streets of Carim- the shady part of town.  
> However, he can't take it anymore when, one day, everything that he holds dear crumbles down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is...a bit more serious, I suppose. I won't be consistent with the themes of these stories.

The Embraced, they called him. A delinquent, a thief. A murderer. The Madman of Carim. The Golden Devil. Assholes.

And the worst part, it was true. He was a madman. He was a delinquent, a thief. Killer. Not a devil. Never.

That was what Lautrec thought, as always, while he walked through the dark, dangerous alleys of Carim. That shady part of town, where women would get raped at every corner, men would be shot from every window, and children…better not talk about the children.

Truth is, everyone in Carim was poor. Many, like Lautrec, resorted to theft. And that, sometimes, lead to killing. But Lautrec was different. He was as poor as everyone else, his only possessions being his shotels, his armor and his beloved ring.

He had a purpose. He desperately loved a woman named Fina. She was petite, had long brown hair, and enchanting eyes. She was the most beautiful woman Lautrec had ever met.

She assured him she loved him too. She even gifted him a ring, and warned him that, where he to ever take it off, she’d cut his hands. And Lautrec couldn’t use his shotels without hands, could he?

Her love was demanding. She was greedy, jealous, capricious. Whenever they met, she’d task him with recovering jewelry, or valuable objects for her. Or to kill some arrogant chick who thought herself to be as beautiful as Fina.

Lautrec realized how perverse this was. But, he couldn’t help it. He was madly in love with Fina. When he fulfilled her wishes, she would make love to him, and it was the sweetest sensation Lautrec, who had lived a harsh life, and found solace only in swinging his weapons, had ever felt.

So here he was. In some random alley of Carim, waiting for her.

“Lautrec.” Her sweet voice filled the space and Lautrec’s head.

He turned around to where the voice came from. She had been hiding in the shadows. “My dear. I brought to you what you asked.” He handed two tearstone rings to her. She took them, and his hand would have lingered with hers, had she not gone back into the shadows to examine them.

Moments later, she threw them to the ground.

“Lautrec.” She repeated. “A woman. That bitch…she dares even look at me…like I'm some fool in need of...help...I want her head…no…I want her eyes. She had them covered by a veil, I bet they are horrible, and that’s why she covers them, yes…yes…I also want her hair, her long, blonde hair…Lautrec, dear, would you do this for me?” Her hand took Lautrec’s helm from him, and caressed his face.

Lautrec was speechless for a second. “B-but…My love, I brought you what you asked already, surely, this woman, she can wait until tomorrow, eh? Now…why don’t you come he-” He was interrupted when she slapped him.

“Lautrec!” She yelled from the shadows. “I thought you loved me…loved me, yes…but…is it…could…are you…having an affair with…with that…BITCH. Lautrec…LAUTREEEEC…don’t lie to me, Lautrec…or…or…”

The man gulped. Fina was dangerous. He nodded quickly, put his helmet on again, and kneeled. He did this whenever he set out to do what she had tasked him with.

And so, Lautrec was left to wander through the empty streets of Carim again, with a target to kill. After all, if he wanted Fina to smile, he had no choice…no choice…

He bumped with a tall man with a dark coat and a top hat.

“Oi, watch where you-” Lautrec stopped when the man turned around and revealed his face- or, well, his mask. “Chester?”

“Lautrec.” Marvelous Chester gestured for him to follow him. “Good to see you.”

Lautrec did as he was told. They ended up in another alley, but this one connected to Oolacile. And if Carim was dangerous, then Oolacile was hell. Nobody had gone there for a month or so, and nobody came back. Except for Chester, of course. For some reason, it had been covered by a dark mist, and not even Knight Artorias and his newly appointed Abyss Watchers dared to cross into that enigma of no return.

Sitting against a wall, with his axe in hand, was Creighton. The three men knew each other since childhood, and had helped each other to survive in the gloomy parts of Firelink. Lautrec greeted Creighton with a nod.

“The situation’s worse in Oolacile.” Chester started. “Before, I could at least snatch something from a bin, or attempt to break into an abandoned house. I can’t even walk straight there, now.”

“But, what exactly is happening in Oolacile?” Asked Creighton.

As usual, Chester only looked down. He didn’t want to talk about Oolacile. Not now, not ever. “Anyways. Lautrec. Can we stay at your home for some days, while we try to do…something about our situation?”

This caught Lautrec off-guard. Of course, he did actually have somewhere to stay, unlike them. In Carim, it didn’t matter what you did to pay the rent so long you had the money. Chester had lived in the streets, he was superb at hiding from the Blades of the Darkmoon to find places to sleep, and he’d spend most of his day searching for stuff in Oolacile. Creighton would follow Chester in his hiding places, and worked as a hitman. But now, Chester had no way to eat or make money, since Oolacile was closed off. Creighton was better, but he still needed lodging. And Lautrec, he may be a madman, a killer, he may be in love with a crazy woman, but he wasn’t an ungrateful fuck. And this two people had saved his life many, many times.

So he nodded immediately, and guided them to their new home.

Lautrec lived in one of the better parts of Carim. His apartment was small, but cozy. There was a small fridge with an even smaller kitchen counter, which only had two plates, a fork and a knife, and they were all in dire need of cleaning. There only was one room, but they’d figure it out later. He had managed to get this place when he worked as a bodyguard for the Thorolund family. Of course, he had to escape when they found he had robbed some relics, but he had been able to keep the house since then.

Lautrec turned on the TV, and zapped to the channels, to find something fun for the three to watch. He also planned to go and buy something good to eat, with his scarce savings, since having his friends stay was quite the ocassion. 

"So...what do you think?" Asked Lautrec after turning off the TV, since nothing seemed interesting enough. 

“Hm…I like it…” Said Chester.

“Yeah, reminds me of my granny’s.” Creighton added.

“But…it’s…a tad too small for three…right Creighton?” Chester looked at Lautrec.

“Oh, it is, too small, too small.” The hitman held his axe with two-hands.

Chester fired his crossbow at ridiculous speed, and Creighton jumped at Lautrec, all in the tiny room.

Lautrec, bewildered by what happened, couldn’t defend himself. He did take out his shotel, by pure reflex, but Creighton was stronger and disarmed him. He was beaten by his two friends, until he simply fainted.

He had strange dreams. First, Chester and Creighton would cut his hands, and insert two tearstone rings into the wounds. Then, Fina would come, and would start yelling at him. Why hadn’t he brought the rings? And Lautrec tried to show her his hands, but they were stumps, and Fina would yell in fear and stab him with a shotel. Then, Fina would turn into the Darkmoon Knightess, the Blade of the Darkmoon that would relentlessly search for him, and say "You shouldn't have done this".

Then he woke up. He was in a cell. But not in Carim. He didn’t recognize the place, but it was clearly somewhere else. The architecture was much prettier, and grand. It had some greenish feel to it, and was decorated with images of the gods and whatnot. He was indoors, too. Then he remembered. This was the Parish of Thorolund. This meant he was in Astora, which was really bad. How his friends got him there, he had no idea.

He was relieved to see he still had one shotel with him. However, the other one was missing, so he reluctantly took out his parrying dagger.

Now, he needed a way to escape. He was in a cell, which was weird, and there…there was a guard, standing before it. Of course, the guard had a key.

Lautrec had been imprisoned many times. This wasn’t his first time in the Parish of Thorolund either. He silently killed the guard with the dagger and stole the keys, with which he then opened the door. That was easy.

He then got out of the room. He saw through a window that it was dark, which was good. There would only be a few men for security in the parish, and he could work around that.

He started going down some stairs, and was amazed to see that there was really nobody on the place. He had been the only one. And, well, that guard, but he was dead.

Of course, something was up, but Lautrec lost his guard. He started thinking, why would his friends bring him here? And how did they get him behind bars? And…the guard…did Chester and Creighton hand him to the Blades of the Darkmoon? Or maybe the Thorolund family…but they were his friends! But, at the same time, they beat him senseless in his own house…Lautrec was confused…and he still had Fina’s request…

“The Madman of Carim. Lautrec.” A female voice called, behind him. He recognized that voice.

He turned around to find the Darkmoon Knightess, her weapons drawn, blocking the exit.

“You must be confused…poor boy…” She taunted him. “Oh, let me clear the waters for you, child. Your ‘friends’ betrayed you.”

Lautrec got ready to fight, but remained in place. He said nothing.

She laughed. “My, my, what are you now? A stoic hero from some high-schooler’s fantasy novel?” He smirked. He knew the Darkmoon Knightess well, and she had loved reading those kinds of books when they were young. “Whatever. You’re nothing more than a monstrous fiend. I promised Chester and the hitman money and an appartment in the Baldr district for you.”

Lautrec nodded internally. It made sense. It was awful, terrible, a betrayal, but it made sense. Some part deep within him whispered _you’d do the same_ and he knew it was right. Not for money, though, but certainly for something else.

The Knightess dropped her playful tone. “I knew you’d escape. But you die now, Laurec. No...you're not even Lautrec...Lautrec had some morals within him, at least. You're a crazy murderer who can't see what's in front of him!”

She lunged at him. he expected it, and hooked her estoc with is shotel, then stabbed her with the dagger. Miraculously, she parried it with her own dagger and kicked him. Lautrec was pushed away, and the Knightess’ estoc was now free. They started moving in slow circles, analyzing the other. They had fought many times with varying results, no cheap tricks would work for any of them.

Lautrec stepped forward, and she did the same. Still moving in circles, they engaged. She’d thrust with her sword, Lautrec would dodge or deflect it, then he’d try to hook any part of her body with his shotel. She’d also deflect it, and she’d try attacking again. They would go on and on like this, seemingly not ending, at incredible speed. 

Suddenly, both of them felt fifteen years younger, in the middle of a forest, practicing their fighting skills. Lautrec would look at her hair, the scars that marked her torso, proof of the Darkmoon’s harsh and ruthless training. He’d admire her figure, elegant and fierce. She’d do the same with his, the muscles he had in his arms, fruit of years of strife and suffering. And then, back onto the fight.

It was only for a moment, and they would return to reality. Lautrec was a delinquent and a killer- a criminal. This woman was not her friend. She was here to kill him. He could sense she doubted as well for a second, and he took his opportunity. He hooked the estoc with his shotel and threw it aside, and did the same thing with her dagger. He then kicked her, making her fall into the ground, and held his dagger next to her throat.

No one said anything. Time seemed to stop. She knew it was her end. He knew he had to kill her, if he wanted to live. But still, they lingered like this, disregarding reality.

“Lautrec…” She sobbed.

Inside the helmet, Lautrec closed his eyes. He had always been such a softie inside. What an idiot. This woman was not her friend. Not anymore.

His foolishness came to bite him in the back. He was pushed away with the force of ten men by something that wasn't there before. When he recovered, he saw a monstrosity of a man, in jet-black armor, holding a halberd and a shield. Horace the Hushed.

Lautrec cursed loudly, but he saw the exit was free, so he ran. Horace was much stronger, but also slower, and didn’t manage to catch him. Outside however, he saw a multitude of people. Some, he knew, like Solaire of Astora, along with a man who looked like an Abyss Watcher, but without the pointy hat. Next to them was Oscar of Astora, and somebody with the exact same armor, but a bit smaller.

Lautrec pushed through Oscar, who had stopped at his sight, and ran as fast as he could to somewhere out of there. He didn’t care of anything. Today was too much. First, Fina with her criminal requests. His friends’ betrayal, the Darkmoon Knightess, and Oscar and Solaire, the only two people that had ever helped him as an adult, had come over to aid in his capture and possible killing.

He wound up in some alley, as always, like when he was a kid and ran from his friends because he had stolen Chester’s chocolate.

Or like when she first met the Knightess, called only Selena back then, when he hadn’t murdered anyone yet, and she offered him his hand.

Like when Oscar found him, sick and freezing, and offered to take him to his house, where he and Solaire, unknowing of his true identity, took care of him for a week.

Like when he first found Fina, enrapturing him with her beauty and her smile, and her words, and he found himself crying in her embracing arms.

Just like now. He was sobbing uncontrollably behind the helmet. He fucked up everything. Everything. He should have stayed with Selena, he should have joined the Blades of the Darkmoon, he shouldn’t have stolen that Thorolund relic, he…he shouldn’t have met Fina…

A soft hand took his helmet. Lautrec, his eyes blurry and red with tears, looked up. He saw a woman, smiling. It looked just like Chester’s smile, whenever he decided to take off the mask. She had blonde hair tied into a braid, and a veil covered her eyes. Lautrec started sobbing again, with more force now. The woman knelt and wrapped his head with her arms, she even kissed his hair, his messy, dirty, greasy hair. Like Fina had done.

She helped him stand up and put his helmet on. Like Selena, when they first met. She guided him through a door, and into a room. Like Oscar, when leading him into his house. She then helped him towards the stairs, and he climbed them with her to reach a bed. Lautrec collapsed into the bed, and started dreaming, of better days, when he could still love, and he hadn’t killed anyone yet.

Anastacia saw the man with golden armor in her bed. She’d heard everything from Selena. She knew who this man was. What he had done. And yet, she couldn’t help but pity him. As such, when Sirris knocked on her door, to ask if she had seen the criminal Lautrec the Embraced, Anastacia answered with a no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story doesn't end yet. In fact, I plan to continue almost every little story I make here.  
> Anastacia is blind, but she still has her tongue. She is a Firekeeper, which allows her, in a way, to "see" others, sort of sense them. At least that's what I think happens, since the Firekeepers don't seem to have any trouble at all looking to the player.   
> The Parish of Thorolund it the Undead Parish, except it's not undead anymore, so it's just Thorolund.  
> Hope you enjoyed.


	4. You're Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lautrec, with help of new friends, tries to make something of himself.  
> But, what will he do, when he's faced with a past he so desperately wants to forget?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last chapter.  
> There may be a bunch of errors, since I wrote this at 4 AM. I'll check this again tomorrow and edit some stuff if I need to.

Lautrec woke up. Weirdly enough, he was in a bed, quite comfortable at that, in a room, it's walls painted orange, red and yellow. Next to him, a small nightstand with a cute lamp, it's light resembling a fire as well. In there, Lautrec felt a strange sense of ease and comfort, and, yesterday had been a tiring day, he could sleep some more...

He then realized something. He didn't know this place, his shotels weren't with him, and his armor was on. He started cursing internally, he needed to get out there, figure out where he was, and try to find Chester. Wait. Shit. Chester had kicked him of his own house.

Lautrec then remembered what had happened last night. Once again, he had nowhere to go. No friends, no family. No one in this shitty, sodden pit of heaped dung would give him a crumb of putrid bread. His mind wandered back to Oscar and Solaire, two strangers that had let him stay in their house for a week or so, but they were present in last night's attempt to kill him.

The blonde woman with a veil covering her eyes entered the room. For some reason, Lautrec didn't flinch, or reflexively take out his shotels, or jump from the bed. Instead, he tried to thank her.

"I...uh...you...took me here, didn't you" His voice sounded tired. The woman nodded. "Uh...thank...thank you for that...I..." He couldn't continue. The reality that he had nowhere to go was crushing, even if he had experienced it multiple times. The woman seemed to realize this, and sat next to him in the bed.

"Who are you?" Asked Lautrec.

"I am a Firekeeper." The woman's voice was soft, and had a calmness to it. And then it clicked to Lautrec. Firekeepers were...strange. Some women, either decided to take on the roll of being a Firekeeper, or were forced to be one. They'd make a vow, and take their eyes out. Similar to how making an oath to a covenant grants one strange powers, Firekeepers, while blind, could see a person's nature, their experiences, and their recent past. Or so he had been told, by a drunk cleric who believed that dragons existed and that . In practice, Firekeepers were women who took care of those who couldn't take care of themselves, until they learned to be on their own. It was a noble task, really. Much to his shame, Lautrec had killed many Firekeepers, under Fina's request. But...now, one was in front of him. For some reason, this girl...thought that something in Lautrec was worth saving. He laughed out loud. The Firekeeper did not seem altered by this. This must have been another sick joke, a trap for him to fall into, like with Chester and...with Selena...

"Tell me, Lautrec, are you lonely?" This question took him by surprise. He hadn't even expected her to talk to him. Lautrec only looked down, and put on his helmet, which was at the nightstand.

The Firekeeper left, and Lautrec could hear her footsteps down the stairs. Then, he realized something. How did this woman know his name?

He was unsure about what to do. He was confused, it was all strange, in a way it hadn't been for years...

The Firekeeper entered the room again, this time with a tray with a banana smoothie, and two pancakes. Lautrec was even more startled. This...was what his mother used to prepare in his birthday, and what he'd had for breakfast in Solaire and Oscar's house!

After leaving the tray on the nightstand, the Firekeeper left again. Lautrec decided no harm would come from eating breakfast, and, he realized only now, he was extremely hungry.

When he finished, the Firekeeper returned, this time with two men besides her. He must have been dreaming, for they were Oscar and Solaire! Two men that...had tried to kill him last night.

This time, Lautrec flinched, he jumped from the bed, and tried to take his shotels. Only to realize, he didn't have them.

"Calm down, we aren't here to harm you." Oscar said slowly. He raised his arms and took of his helmet, and showed that he had no weapons with him.

Lautrec sat on the bed. "What where you doing there yesterday."

"I could ask the same question, Lautrec." Oscar's tone wasn't exactly happy. "I remember you, when we found you, lying on the ground, a bottle of wine next to you and your weapons sprawled beside you. I thought you were just an unfortunate man. We woke you up, and, who knew, you were homeless. We did what we thought was right. Fast forward two years, Selena calls us to help her catching a man charged with murder, theft and many other crimes I didn't even know existed. We go to the place and, guess what. It's the homeless, unfortunate man we pitied two years before."

"You...know Selena?" 

Solaire nodded.

"Now, Lautrec. There's no need to be feisty about this...Anastacia..." He gestured to the Firekeeper "...told us she found you crying on an alley, and, forget what my friend says, if she decided to take care of you, then we trust you." 

Lautrec nodded, a bit hazed.

"Lautrec. Please. Tell them the truth." Anastacia spoke again. How did she...? Well shit, maybe the cleric was right. Lautrec gulped and sighed, then breathed in and out. He then looked at Oscar and Solaire. While there was no fancy "truth", Lautrec _was_ a murderer, a thief, all of those nasty things, his situation could clear up some things. And, well, these two men knew Selena. If he didn't tell them, the Blades would be at the doorstep the next minute.

"I...I am from Carim. You may know that place as a dangerous part of town- and it's true, don't get me wrong...but people...they kill, yes, they steal, yes...but it's the only way to survive there. I...didn't have much choice...and, well, you can say 'why don't you get a job somewhere else?' And it's a fair question, yes...but nobody wants to hire some rat from the ugly neighborhood to work for them. Isn't that right?" He looked at the two men from Astora. Solaire nodded, but Oscar kept looking at Lautrec, his expression not exactly happy. "Anyways...in Carim, my parents died...when I was young...so I left home, and didn't do...anything, really, for some weeks..then, I found...friends. Two, in fact, and...well, we worked together to survive...it was...something, life...seemed...doable, with them there. One day, I...we fought, yes...over some things, and we got separated. I spent another month or so alone...I...it was horrible...horrible." Lautrec couldn't keep Oscar's stare anymore, so he just looked at the ground. Plus, he could hide his eyes, getting redder every second. "That's when...I..." He decided to skip everything that had to do with Selena. "That month, I started getting drunk...more...I...would kill people at random, it was the worst, as I said before...and, one day, I met you...you took care of me, you taught me how it was to have somebody else...so, I tried to straighten my life. I got a job, as a bodyguard for the Thorolund family...I became friends again...with those I had fallen out with...I even managed to...find a woman I loved...I love, I...still love her. Her name is Fina." He looked up at Solaire and Oscar.

"And?" Solaire asked.

Lautrec sighed. Obviously, the story didn't end there. But...he didn't want to talk dirt about Fina...he loved her...but after yesterday, it's true that...he banished these thoughts, and decided to continue.

"Fina...is dangerous. She's capricious. Demanding, and gets jealous easily. She asked me to rob some holy relic from the Thorolunds. I did, I got fired, but Fina loved me, for some days...at least...it was beautiful...but she kept asking me...to give her more things, to kill women or men she felt jealous of...and...and..." Lautrec started sobbing. Solaire and Oscar stood where they were, a bit confused, while Anastacia hugged Lautrec. A few minutes later, he calmed down, and he prepared for the questions the two men were bound to have.

"So, this all started because of that Fina, right?" Started Oscar. Lautrec nodded. "Hmm...I'd say to just leave her, but it can't be that easy...and, well, I doubt you can get a job, now that you're the Madman of Carim and what not." He looked at Lautrec right in the eye. "Well, the first step is getting rid of Fina." Lautrec looked at Oscar with a mix of worry and menace. Oscar only laughed a bit. "I don't mean it in such an extreme way, just that...you ought to forget her. She clearly doesn't love you as much as you to her, and...well, being with her hasn't done you any good, eh?"

Solaire then interfered. "You don't want to be alone, right Lautrec?" The man looked at Solaire. They stared at each other for a few seconds, until the man from Carim lowered his head, and nodded, sadly.

"Well then. We can be your friends in that case! Hahaha!" Solaire's laugh iluminated the room. Oscar, while he looked at his friend confused, seemed to relax a bit, Anastacia the Firekeeper chuckled as well, and even Lautrec looked up.

"What?" Now he could confirm, it was all some perverse joke, maybe staged by Selena as revenge

The Firekeeper spoke again. "Being alone is something woeful indeed, Lautrec. Your fear of being alone is what led you to doing these horrible things. As such, I think you should befriend Oscar and Solaire. In a sense, it's the same as when they found you and took care of you, but this time, you ought to stay away from Fina." 

As such, Lautrec returned to Oscar and Solaire's apartment. But this time, he stayed for more than a week. They lived together for some months, which helped Lautrec reorganize his thoughts about everything. Once again, he was going to attempt to do things correctly. He'd find a job, and then work to be able to live by himself. And then, he'd be free, but not alone, or so he hoped..

He found a job at Patches Trusty Trove. as a bartender, along with the actual Patches. The job was fun for him, as he himself was fond of drinks, and he talked regularly with another Firekeeper that worked there. She didn't tell him her name, maybe she didn't had one. This Firekeepers were so strange, Lautrec wouldn't have been surprised by that...

He even found out Solaire and Oscar would usually come to the place. He even saw Horace the Hushed go in there. Fortunately, either Horace didn't remember him or, without his armor, he didn't recognize Lautrec, so he could do his job normally.

For two months, everything was going fine. He managed to get his own apartment, like he had hoped, and his job was rewarding and fun.

That is, until one day, something unexpected happened.

He was working late at night, and chatting with Anastacia and a fellow named Ostrava. Patches was out of town and the Firekeeper was ill or something. On the room upstairs slept a foreign peddler named Domnhall, that Lautrec hadn't had much contact with.

"...and, due to his heroic deeds, the Old King Doran was chosen to guard the Demonbrandt, a holy sword that could vanquish demon's in one swing. They say he's still behind a locked door, guarding the weapon, waiting for somebody worthy to take it, and when that happens, Boletaria will be reborn, the old kingdom left anew, and led by one equal to Doran." Ostrava was young, and loved stories about his homeland, and he'd tell Lautrec about them every time he visited the inn. He was a bit new in town, and was still finding his way around things, so Lautrec was probably one of the few who could give him guidance. To Lautrec, it felt great. Being able to be a pillar for somebody else was something new, something he never could have done, had it not been for his friends Oscar, Solaire and Anastacia.

The door opened. It was fashioned as one of those doors in the wild west movies, so one could see who it was before the person actually came in. When Lautrec so who was entering, he dropped the glass he was cleaning.

The Darkmoon Knightess, drunk, walked through the inn, looking at the walls, the empty tables, the ceiling, and, lastly, at Lautrec. She said nothing, while the man tried to mutter some nonsense. She immediately drew her estoc, but didn't lunge at him just yet.

"Monster." She started. "What are you doing here. Are you not busy enough killing innocents and snatching their wallets?"

Anastacia stood up. When Selena saw her and Ostrava, she lowered her weapon. Lautrec whispered to the kid to go upstairs, with Domnhall. The kid followed through.

"Anastacia." Selena wasn't done. "This man is dangerous, he would not hesitate to take your life. To him, it matters not that you are a Firekeeper."

"Selena..." Anastacia was as calm as ever. She got closer to the Knightess, and places his hand on her arm. "The man before you is not a monster. He is not the same as you remember." At this, the Knightess gave a sarcastic laugh. "Please. Give him a chance."

"I've given him enough chances already. He's done wrong to many, including myself. He deserves that with which he played mercilessly for so many years. Death."

Lautrec stood where he was, silent. He knew what he deserved. He knew he had done many things wrong. But this last two months, he'd changed. Or at least he had tried to. He didn't care, honestly, wether he died tonight, or not. But he had to do one last thing. Something he had never done, once in his life. He was going to apologize.

Selena got closer to Lautrec, until they stood, face to face.

"I...Selena, I'm so-"

Selena placed the tip of her estoc where Lautrec's hearth would be. She pressed lightly. She moved the sword up to his neck, and made a really small cut, but enough to draw blood. Anastacia only observed, her expression seemingly indifferent.

The Knightess started talking, with a small, sad, almost shaking, voice. "I found you alone. Cold. Crying. You were destined to die alone, right there. I pitied you. Ever since then, you lived with my family. We trained together, we wanted to join the Blades of the Darkmoon. You and I. Both of us. We'd endlessly fight against one another. And then...one night...you confessed to me...that you loved me." She took off her helmet, revealing her scarred, ugly face. Her eyes were swollen and red. Tears peeked through. She continued, looking at Lautrec. She moved her Estoc through his upper body, pressing lightly here and there. "I told you I felt the same. We promised, we would be together. We were so young, so..so young...after a year...we were preparing for the entrance examination for the covenant. And then, the night before...you dissapeared...My parents refused to talk anything about it...so I entered the covenant alone..." She moves her estoc to Lautrec's right shoulder, and it stayed there. "My...my first task...I had to find a criminal in Carim...he went by with golden armor...and two...two shotels...he was a drunkard, and would explode in anger and just...just...kill..." She stopped for a second, sobbing. When she recovered, she pressed the estoc on his shoulder a bit more. "And...so I went...fearing the worst...you...you...you...were....." She thrusted her estoc, piercing Lautrec's shoulder, and a cracking was heard.

Lautrec stayed in place. He made his best effort not to scream, but a sad, pathetic whine escaped his lips. Selena looked him straight in the eye, her sadness replaced with anger and, if one where to look closely, the smallest, faintest, almost non-existing glint of hope.

"Tell me. Are you the Lautrec I loved, or the drunkard I was sent to kill?"

Lautrec contained a sob, and did something he wished he could have done years before. He leaned over the counter and kissed Selena. It was the only way he could express to her what he felt. She stayed in place. She did not flinch, but didn't reciprocate the kiss either. After a second, Lautrec went back into place, now crying uncontrollably. Selena retrieved her estoc.

"Very well. But this is not enought, Lautrec of Carim. Where you to dissapoint me again, I won't pierce your shoulder." With that, she left.

Anastacia looked at Lautrec. "I thought you loved Fina..." To the man's annoyance, she chuckled a bit.

"I thought so too, but when we fucked, I'd close my eyes, and think of Selena."

"And why did you leave her, then?"

Lautrec looked the other way and shrugged. "Her parents said they didn't want their girl to be with someone from Carim. Guess they were right."

Just then, the door opened again, and Patches entered his inn. He looked at Lautrec's bloody shoulder.

"Well now, mate.I thought I told ya fights weren't allowed." Lautrec gave his boss an irritated look. Patches' demeanor didn't change, but he did drive his employee to the hospital.

Meanwhile, Selena was left to herself, wandering through the streets. If Anastacia was with Lautrec, it meant the man truly had tried to change. Reports from the Madman of Carim did stop for the last two months, and he was working as a bartender. But, still. She couldn't just forgive him. He had left her, in exchange for a life of crime.

However, when she reached her house, the woman touched her lips, a small, innocent smile forming.

"So...you're Domnhall of Zena, right?" Ostrava had remained upstairs for the last hour, unsure about what to do, so he finally decided to talk to the other man in the room.

"I am, young lad. Tell me, do you want to hear the tale of a king that tried to reach the clouds with a ladder?" Domnhall's eyes were glowing, which slightly intimidated the young Ostrava.

But still, a story was a story, and neither some foreigner's eyes or a gigantic demon would stop him from hearing one. "With pleasure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now. This small..."arc" has ended.  
> Of course, there will be more stories about Lautrec, the Darkmoon Knightess, maybe even Ostrava, who knows.  
> Selena isn't a firekeeper.  
> Wether the drunken cleric told Lautrec the truth about Firekeepers or not, I'll leave it to you. But it is true that, in this AU, they're blind women that take care of people that, like Lautrec, can't take care of themselves.  
> Hope you enjoyed this one. The next one will probably be a bit more happy.


	5. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea is a bit tired of her religious, monotone routine.  
> As such, her friends find a way for her to enjoy a night in the town, with somebody other than the Allfather Lloyd.

Rhea lived a busy life. She woke up early, in the ostentatious Thorolund household, and would immediately head to the Thorolund Parish, to pray to the Allfather for the town's safety, that the darkness would disappear from Oolacile, that Gwyondolin, the head of the Blades of the Darkmoon, would recover from his illness. That no evil would fall on the Abyss Watchers, so that they may keep the town free of Darkwraiths. She prayed for the lives of every soul in Carim, and that the nobles of Astora would, for once, consider the interests of other individuals. She prayed that the vagabonds in Blighttown would stop harassing Vinheim scholars, and that Izalith Manor would be rebuilt soon. But, more importantly, she prayed that, one day, she'd be spared from this tedious routine, so that she may spend some time with her friends, and visit the town by herself.

By noon, she'd conduct insightful conversations with the Pardoner, Oswald of Carim, and sometimes, Bishop Havel would grace the Parish with his presence. Then, they'd leave for almsgiving at Carim, in vain hopes that these would turn the area into something more hospitable, and that its people would stop having draw upon theft, or any other fraudulent way of earning a living. 

In the afternoon was when Rhea could make the most out of her time. She would probably hang out with Beatrice and Rickert, and they'd go to watch a movie, or go eat somewhere, or they'd simply converse. But it was unlike the conversations Rhea held with Oswald and Havel- in this instance, she could speak freely, and, in her opinion, it was much more interesting to listen to the young couple's bickering than to talk about religion.

At night, she would pray yet again, and back at home, she'd help the maids tidy the household, prepare the food, and then, she would convince the staff to eat and chat with her, as her parent were almost always out of town, spreading word of the Allfather to the world outside.

Rhea was devout to the Allfather, of course, but it was because His teachings had been inculcated upon her since her birth, or so said Vince, one of her bodyguards. She didn't practice any sports, she never got to read any interesting novel, outside of those her family said she should, which meant she had to, read. She wouldn't watch any shows or movies, unless it was with her two friends, and she couldn't really practice any hobby. And, well, Rhea, as she slowly turned from a girl to a woman, realized that she wanted to try out doing something else. The afternoons with Beatrice and Rickert weren't enough. 

It was for this reason that today was special. Rhea slept two hours or so, nervous as she was. She stuttered on her morning prayers, and payed almost no attention to Havel's rant about the pagan nature of magic. For today, at night, she'd sneak out of the Thorolund Household with Beatrice and Rickert's help, to spend the night in town. 

The idea at first seemed like something unthinkable. She craved for a freewill, but she didn't want to have to infringe on the rules her family set upon her. And, well, she only talked with Rickert and Beatrice, she only knew the rest of the townsfolk by their looks! However, Rickert pointed out that, if she wanted to meet new people, she'd have to actually go and talk to them, and Beatrice said that she'd never gotten drunk, and it was something she had to do before dying. Rickert and Rhea agreed that Beatrice was a bit weird.

The rest of the day went better. Rhea managed to forget what was going to happen at night, to the point that, when she was going to sleep ad something knocked on her window, she thought that a demon had come to haunt her, but when she looked again, she caught Beatrice's pale face amongst the darkness. She immediately opened the window, and allowed her to enter the room. They embraced each other.

"So, are you ready?" Beatrice had a dangerous look in her eyes. "Rick is waiting outside, he'll use his magic to bring us down."

Rhea nodded, a bit stunned bu the fact that they were actually doing it. She was going to spend the night meeting new people, something she had done like three times in her life.

Indeed, Rickert used some spell to make Beatrice fall on the ground, but keeping her unscathed. Rhea doubted a bit, but she jumped, and was surprised to see the magic working- she felt nothing upon touching the ground.

"So, we'll be taking you to Patches' Trusty Trove." Rickert never greeted anybody, but that was just him.

"Ok...wait. Isn't that the place where Petrus got..." Some years a go, Petrus, Rhea's guardian, had gone into a bar belonging to someone named Patches. Something happened in there, but when Petrus came out, he was almost naked, and he left town the next day. Rhea didn't hold much love for Petrus, but she didn't want to end up like him.

Beatrice made an 'o' with her mouth. "That's riiight...Patches hates clerics..."

Rickert only shrugged. "No matter. Patches is out of town again. Wonder what he's doing...anyways, nothing bad is gonna happen. We promise you." Both of her friends looked at Rhea reassuringly, which made the woman smile. She nodded, and they set out to Patches' Trusty Trove.

Inside, noise filled the room. There were many tables, and it seemed small groups were forming around them. She recognized many people, even if she'd never talked to them. She saw Oscar and Solaire, both of whom had served as guards in Thorolund Parish once or twice. Her gaze met Selena, the Darkmoon Knightess, somebody she was actually acquainted with. A man with a big hat was talking loudly to a young man with Vinheim's uniform. She suspected those two to be Logan and Griggs, the former having been Rickert's teacher at Vinheim, and Griggs an ex-classmate. She could see three Onion Knights, as they were commonly called. She knew they were Siegmeyer, Siegward and Sieglinde, but couldn't distinguish one from the other. Wolf Knight Artorias was on a corner, talking to a man with golden armor that could only be the Dragonslayer Ornstein. But beyond that, everyone else was a complete stranger.

Beatrice left to go and talk with Artorias, and Rickert led Rhea to the table where Oscar was playing a card game with one of the Onion Knights.

The two men looked at Rhea when she sat down next to them.

"Um...hello..." She was a bit overwhelmed, honestly. "I...am...Rhea...Rhea of..."

Oscar finished her sentence. "Rhea of Thorolund? You...you were praying at the Parish every morning, yeah, I remember you. You gave me the fifty souls I needed to buy a drink." Rhea nodded, a bit flattered. "I'm Oscar of Astora. And this..." He pointed to the Onion Knight. "Is Sieglinde, daughter of Siegmeyer, the one over there, gesturing exaggeratedly." Indeed, to a table in the center, there was a Knight of Catarina, standing on top of the table and acting out some strange scene. Sieglinde gave out a cute, small 'hi' to Rhea, and waved her hand.

"Sit down, please." Oscar took out a chair from another table for the cleric to sit in. Sieglinde chuckled inside her helmet. "My, what a gentleman." Oscar adjusted his own head gear. "Force of habit. I had to invite many girls and women to sit down at dinner when I lived with my father. He told me, as a child, 'women won't sit on a chair by their own accord, so you need to invite them to do so,' Until I met Anri, I believed it." Sieglinde laughed even more, and they focused again on their cards.

"Um...may I ask what are you playing?" Rhea only knew how to play chess, as the Pardoner was rather fond of it. "It's a card game called _Truco_." Sieglinde left the explanation there, and Oscar continued. "It's rules are pretty complicated, but basically, cards have different values, and you need to use them to win against you opponent's cards. If you win thirty times, you win the game. And then you play a game. There's also actions that can be taken, like _trick_ , _envy_ , and some variations, but those are complicated."

Rhea didn't completely understand, but she was more concerned by something else. "Why do you two have your helmets on?" At this, Oscar chuckled. "Well, in _Truco_ , you need to lie. A lot. Especially if you have bad cards. And, if we have bad cards, our faces would give it away, since Sieglinde and I are terrible liars. So we cover them, to make it more interesting." It still seemed strange to Rhea, but she payed it no mind.

She was content with watching the game unfold, and trying to catch on to what was happening, until she realized she was pretty hungry. She didn't want to bother Oscar and Sieglinde, but her stomach growling gave it away. Oscar called a pale man with long, greasy dark hair, who stopped cleaning an Estus bottle and came near them.

]"Lautrec. Our little guest here is hungry." This Lautrec man looked at Rhea, and then asked her what she wanted.

"I...um...I want...uh..."

"For fuck's sake, I don't have all day! I need to clean the goddamn bottle, and Logan is gonna start asking for more Estus anytime soon!"

"Lautrec, calm down. She's new here, why don't you suggest her something?"

Lautrec then gave Rhea a look, and she immediately recognized him. Lautrec had been a bodyguard for the Thorolund family for some months, but then he tried to steal one of the family's holy relics. 

"You're the Madman of Carim!" Everyone turned to Rhea's table, but after a moment, resumed their usual activities. Lautrec seemed irritated, and Oscar facepalmed. Rhea was suddenly a bit terrified, and stayed where she was, paralyzed. Lautrec himself cleared up the situation, however. "I was. I have a job now, and no reason to mess it up." Oscar nodded in agreement, confirming to Rhea that it was true. "Now, I can suggest you Patches' Special Bag o' Meat or to go fuck yourself if you continue bothering me." Rhea decided to go with the meat, and Lautrec came back some time later with a steak with some strange dressing. Indeed, the meat had a spicy flavor to it, and Rhea found it she enjoyed it quite a lot. In the meantime, she had asked Sieglinde about the Knights of Catarina.

"Well, Catarina is an order of knights. It's similar to Vinheim, I suppose. You go into an academy, learn about the history of the Knights of Catarina, about fencing, manners and some other stuff, and when you get out, you're officially a Knight of Catarina. In reality, this is just a title, but it means quite a lot. Knights of Catarina are renowned for their excelling skill at combat, especially when outnumbered, so rich people usually hire a Knight of Catarina as a bodyguard or something. Uncle Ward once served as the personal guard of Yhorm. You know Yhorm? He ruled over the Profaned Capital, north of Firelink. He died poisoned by some nobleman, so dad came back here. Now he gets hired to do various jobs. And Father spends a lot of time traveling. He brings news from the world to here. One day, I wanna serve a big king or something, and go on adventures. I wanna be a legend as big as Gael!" At the mention of this, Oscar burst out laughing. "Gael is older than Gwyn, for the earth's sake. He participated in the War of the Dragons, along with Ornstein and a bunch of other weirdos. And there's no conflicts going on right now. Gael is one in a million, it's a miracle he's still sane." Sieglinde huffed, and went to her father's table, to hear stories about the Onion Knights of old.

"And you?" Rhea looked at Oscar. "Is it true that you are an Elite Knight?" Oscar snorted. "I was supposed to be. My father taught me how to be one." He took off his helmet. "But he died when I was 19. I tried to keep up with his exercises, but to now avail. Truth be told, I'm not made to be an Elite Knight."

"And...why did your father die?" Oscar looked up. "He...died from an illness." Of course, Rhea knew it was a lie. She'd seen many people lie, in Carim, praying at the Parish, even the Pardoner would lie to her, when talking about himself. And, well, she had a knack for understanding others, she supposed. "Anyways, I suppose you wanna know more about the Elite Knights." He was now even changing the topic. Rhea agreed, of course, but she'd have to return to his father sometime. 

"Like the Onion Knights, being an Elite Knight is proof that you have specific qualities. For one, Elite Knights can't assume political charges, so I guess some lord of somewhere wouldn't have to worry about his bodyguard overthrowing him. In a way, Elite Knights are more..'fancy', like, you are taught manners and stuff. And we're supposed to be expert duelists. But the real thing comes with the Knight's devotion." He seemed more serious talking about this. "Elite Knights are steadfast and loyal to their death. We are trained to be like that. And unlike the Onion Knights, or students of Vinheim, the duties of an Elite Knight are taught from father to son." He then shrugged, relaxing for a moment. "I'm pretty mediocre at all of that stuff anyways. I was even made to learn to play the piano. I still barely get it, after some twenty years." Both of them laughed, but there was something more to Oscar's tone. 

"Anyways, unless you're leaving soon, you should go to one of the other tables." Oscar had put on his helmet again. "There are interesting stories to be heard. Siegmeyer tells the funniest anecdotes, but he's drunk, so you may not understand it. Logan's stuff is interesting at it's core, but he's to angry to make any sense out of it. If you can get Ornstein to tell you something, you'll probably enjoy it, since he's a great narrator. Beatrice...if you're a cleric, better not get near Beatrice." Rhea chuckled. "I know that." Beatrice usually talked about sex when drunk, and it really didn't bother Rhea that anymore, but Oscar probably thought her to be a stereotypical cleric. "Well then. I'll have to leave you now, since I need to carry Solaire back home." Rhea looked at the man in question, who had passed out, and was snoring loudly on the floor. Oscar and Rhea said their goodbyes, and she decided to float around the tables for a while. Her interaction with Sieglinde and Oscar had given her the courage to talk to others that she usually lacked, and she found herself laughing at Siegward's jokes, then at Beatrice kissing Rickert and pining him to the ground, while he complained that she was too drunk for this. Beatrice told him to shut up, and tried to undress herself. At this point, Artorias intervened and helped Rickert get her home. Rhea took this opportunity to talk a bit with the famous Abysswalker, who seemed to be quite a calm, placid person, outside of the stories of how he ended with the infection of New Londo. Rhea even got a bit drunk, and seemed to forget parts of the night. She did remember, however, how a bald man carried her back to her room, through the open window Beatrice had used before, while the sun peeked through the horizon.

Rhea definitely enjoyed the night. She had fun, and learned many things. She had met new people, and she was decided to repeat it, no matter the cost.

Meanwhile, Patches was tidying the inn, with the help of Lautrec and Domnhall, who had returned after. 

;"I thought you hated clerics." Domnhall had returned only now from his stall at Firelink Plaza. His usual clients would leave Patches' Trusty Trove at those hours, and would often buy something from the peddler.

"I do. But that girl came here to have fun, for once, unlike that asshole of Petrus." Patches stretched his arms. "And, she's a tad different. She doesn't just believe in the almighty, invincible and incredible God. Or however they call it. She sees the world around her, the people. She sees their suffering and their joy. That's somethin' I respect."

"Oh, and boss. What've you been up to lately?"

Patches smiled. "What do you mean, mate?"

"Oh, you know, you disappear for the day and return at night, it's weird."

Patches' smile grew only wider. "Well, first I wanna see how do you manage alone. But, well...let me say that Gael pays well for some good, rare paint."

"Are you serious." Domnhall conceited a laugh, one way or the other. "It ain't funny, mate. I need to get Gael's stuff from freaking Oolacile."

"Then don't." Lautrec suddenly went serious. "What?" Patches was baffled. "Don't go to Oolacile. Just don't."

Patches burst out laughing. "Well, I didn't know you loved me so much, haha!"

Lautrec went home, as he was told, and Domnhall went to sleep. So Patches was left alone. He sighed. Lautrec was probably right. Before, wether he died in Oolacile mattered little. But now, he had the inn, with people he cared about in it. He decided that, tomorrow, he'd stay. With that in mind, he closed the shop and went to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say Beatrice, I mean Witch Beatrice. The summon at the Moonlight Butterfly. I always liked her, for some reason, and that's why I'm including her here.  
> I plan to do something more with Oscar, Artorias, and Ornstein. Maybe even Seath and Havel.  
> And, yeah, something's cooking up in Oolacile.


	6. Truths in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patches and Ciaran go to Oolacile, each for their own reasons, and come back with similar realizations.

Saying that Oolacile was dark was an understatement. It's obscurity was enveloping. It made Patches feel lonely, and it reminded him of the warm, cozy bonfire at his inn. He was taken back to the cold times in which he lived in the cities' graveyard, when he had to resolve to profaning tombs, then selling the goods and tricking and cheating on his clients, to be able to survive. Of course, he'd shaved his head since then and went by another name, Patches, and he had long forgotten those times. Walking through Oolacile, though, made him think back on them. He looked at Ciaran, beside him, who had accepted to accompany Patches through the rotten, dark neighborhood. He knew she was going through the same thing. 

"What're you looking at, bald creep?" 

Patches snickered. "Why does everyone call me 'bald creep'?" 

"I guess Ornstein says it a lot." Ciaran shrugged. "Anyways, follow me unless you wanna die." 

"Remind me to give you a discount the next time you ask for a bottle of whisky." Ciaran dismissed him, and she started walking. 

Ciaran had grown up in Oolacile, she had explored every corner, had walked on every roof and had broken many windows, while she escaped the Blades of the Darkmoon, after she had stepped over the line a bit too much. It was here as well where she had met Artorias and Gough. Patches didn't know where did Gough come from, but Artorias had been raised by Alvina in the Darkroot Garden, just outside of town. Later, while they all ended up being enlisted by Gwyn for the war with the dragons, they'd met Ornstein. But, a while after the war, Gough had dissapeared. He took a wild guess that Gough was the reason Ciaran had decided to accompany him for his business. 

Patches had been here before, but it was taking a toll on him, alone in the streets, having to fend off crazed townsfolk, or maybe worse. Having somebody he knew with him was reassuring. 

They walked through the streets, that were laid out in weird ways. They went up and down with stairs, and sometimes the road was above a roof of a small market. 

Their destiny, however, was clear. There was a high tower that stood out from the dark fog shrouding the city. That's where Patches was headed. Gael had asked for art supplies of the highest quality, for reasons unknown, and, sadly, those were in the tower. 

On the way there, Patches and Ciaran did not mutter anything resembling a word, much less start a conversation. In any case, the journey was uneventful, and Ciaran had led them through hidden corridors and alleys, avoiding the monstrosities the darkness had caused. 

"What are those crates you're carrying?" Ciaran asked, pointing at some wooden boxes Patches had. 

"Oh, these. I'll exchange them for what I need." 

Until they reached the tower, they remained silent. 

"So, is this it?" Ciaran looked up to the tower, but Patches couldn't see her face behind the mask. "Is Gough really here?" 

"You'll see, you'll see..." Patches unlocked the door, and they started climbing the stairs. 

"But why would he be here? I mean, he was always attached to this place, sure, but...he wouldn't lock himself up in a tower..." 

"You think I know? I just buy him his stuff." 

They remained silent, until they reached the top. Indeed, the giant Gough was there. He was carving a little man with a bow out of a piece of wood. Tucked in a corner of the roofless room were more little figures made of wood- some of them depicting Artorias, Ciaran and Ornstein. There was a little bald man squatting that could only be Patches, too. 

Gough looked up. "Hm...is it..?" 

Ciaran jumped at him and hugged him. "Gough! You ARE here! Dear Velka, we didn't know what had happened!" She took of her mask, revealing a radiant, beautiful smile. 

The giant then looked at Patches. "Ah, yes. I have the stuff over there, I'll give it to you in a second, if you would please wait." Patches nodded, and retired to squat on a corner. 

Ciaran and Gough spent a whole hour or so talking. Remembering stuff from the war with the dragons, mocking Ornstein, and he heard her talk dreamily about Artorias. He asked her if she had finally asked him out, and she blushed. It was the first time Patches had ever seen Ciaran _not_ angry. But after a while, they ran out of simple, easy conversations and Ciaran asked the question that had led her here. 

"Why? Why did you leave?" 

Gough sighed. "Oh, you know...war is quite something...I guess it left an impression on me." Ciaran's face was a mix of bafflement, relief and anger. "But I've been living a placid life in here. Look. I've carved the whole army in here, and the dragons. Boy, were they difficult." He grabbed the wooden Ciaran. "Do you wanna see your little figu-" 

"NO!" The woman slapped the figure to the ground, thankfully not breaking it. "I want you to come back. Now!" Then she softened a little. "Without you there's...something...a hole, I guess. Ornstein spends all his time supervising the palace, Anor Londo, and Arty is always patrolling. They try to make it seem like it's ok, joking and whatnot...but something's missing. Please. Return with us, please." 

"Ciaran, I can't. And I won't. Had you asked me some years ago, I'd considered it. And trust me, I want to. I still love you three. But I can't. I have a duty here. The darkness in Oolacile grows at every second, and it's my job to keep an eye on it." 

Ciaran stopped. She knew what it was to have a duty. She herself was sent to kill those Gwyn deemed dangerous for the town's safety. But, even she realized that loved ones were more important. 

However, she said no more. She put on her mask again, and simply left the room. Patches and Gough looked at each other. 

"I think she was right, mate." 

"You've felt the darkness in here. It's terrible. It strips your soul, and all reasoning. All that's left is the desire to return home, a home you can't even remember. So you get angry, because you don't know where to go. Those madmen outside where once people, you know." His tone was grim, he seemed tired like he'd never been, and he seemed crestfallen. 

"Right...right. Let's get to business then. I've brought the food." He put the crates on the ground, and Gough grabbed them, desperately. Normally, Patches wouldn't give up his stuff until he saw what he wanted, but Gough had been here, alone, for years. And he liked the giant. 

Gough ate a part of what was in the crates, mostly raw meat, which was what he had first asked, and in return, he grabbed some dirty buckets, filled with paint. He gave them to Patches, who carried them with some difficulty. 

The bald man started to leave, but Gough coughed, drawing his attention. 

"Could you...ask Gael himself to come around, sometime? It was nice talking to Ciaran...even if...you know...and Arty and Ornstein can't know that I'm here, else they will take me back to them by force." 

Patches laughed, but it wasn't in scorn. It was a happy laugh. "Sure. I'm getting tired of this place anyways. Goodbye mate, and don't go crazy." He then left. 

At the base of the tower, Ciaran had been waiting for him. Either she was really nice, or she didn't want to get back alone. 

The journey out of Oolacile was just as boring as the one to the tower, but there was now some distance between them. Ciaran seemed to ignore Patches, and woudn't wait for him to keep up with her. Just before leaving, she stopped. 

"Patches?" Her voice was shaky. "Please, would you visit him again?" Patches smiled. "Don't make fun of it. Gough is my friend. I wouldn't want him to go nuts over Oolacile." Patches then nodded, and gestured for them to go return quickly to the inn. It was getting late, and this time, Gael would be waiting at the Trove. 

"So...you got what I asked for?" Slave Knight Gael was on his thirteenth cup of Estus, still as sober as a kid. He was older than anyone in the room, and there were some pretty old people in there, namely Logan and Domnhall. However, he was an elusive figure, and everyone looked up to him in one way or another. His sense of humour, his ability with the sword, that outmatched Artorias himself, and his general wisdom. And, of course, his beloved granddaughter. Gael would do literally anything for his granddaughter. No exceptions. 

"Yeah, yeah, here it is." Patches sent the nameless Firekeeper to serve the clients, while he searched for the two buckets of paint Gough had provided him with. "Now show me the souls." 

"Ah, yes." Gael's tone didn't change, but he was immensely pleased. "Here you go. Forty-thousand souls." Patches accepted them readily. 

However, when Gael was about to live, the innkeeper stopped him. "Gael. I don't think I'm going back to Oolacile for you, ever." Gael sat down again, and chugged his Estus once more. 

"And why would that be?" 

"I don't wanna die in there. I have the Trove to keep, employees to pay, and clients to serve. It's not like before, Gael. You know what I mean." 

Gael let out a strange, but happy, sound, similar to a humming. "Well then. I suppose I'll have to go there myself." 

"Indee- wait. Really? Just like that?" Gael had an amused look. "What're you playing, old man?" 

Gael laughed. "Oh, well...nothing...just that I'm glad you realized you have a family here..." He then left, with the two buckets of paint. 

Patches looked at the inn. The nameless Firekeeper, smiling all day long. Lautrec, who had managed to recover from a lifetime of murder and crime. At the Darkmoon Knightess, who was staring at Lautrec through her helmet. At Rhea, who had escaped her manor at night today as well and was trying to not look ashamed of the drunk ramblings of Beatrice. At Logan, who was shouting at Rickert and Griggs some weird stuff about Theory of Soul Manipulation or something of the sort. At Hawkwood, who was talking with Solaire about some guy they'd helped today. At Siegmeyer, Siegward and Sieglinde, who were playing cards. At Oscar and Anri, simply chatting in a table, with Horace next to them, observing, and occasionally communicating through sign language with Anri. At the young Ostrava, who was sharing stories with Domnhall. 

Pherhaps the old Gael wasn't too far off. He did have a family here, at Patches' Trusty Trove. 

In a table in a corner, Ciaran was maintaining a lively conversation with Artorias while Ornstein had gone to pee. She managed to avoid talking about where she had been for most of the day. In fact, she avoided thinking about Gough at all. He was not coming back, and for better or worse, she had to accept it. 

At first sight, he seemed as usual. He had his sword on his back, Sif was sitting on his lap, and he was eating like there was no tomorrow. But, he was overall much more quiet than usual, his gestures and movements showed less passion, that unbreakable will that had turned the tide against the dragons so many times. It had been like that for years now, she had grown accustomed to it, to the point of ignoring it. But after seeing Gough today, she had remembered just how much his departure had meant, specially to Artorias. For a whole month, he hadn't gone outside. He was much, much better now, but it was also true that he dedicated all of his time to watching the city. 

"Artorias...I...uh...um..." Ciaran felt really weird asking this, and she soon felt herself redden, to which she responded by putting on her mask. But she had to do this. She and Arty hadn't hung out at all, with the exception of hearing stories at the inn, for years. "Would you like to...you know..." 

"I don't think I know what you mean, Ciaran, heh." He was enjoying seeing her like this, of course he was. 

Ciaran gulped. "Would you like to go out with me one day...Arty...?" She said it all really quickly, and for a second she feared that he might not have understood her, or that he did, and found it ridiculous, or that he would reject her violently, and she was regretting everything right no- 

"What?" 

"I-I said, would you like to go..." 

"No, no, I know what you said. But...I can't...are you sure?" 

Ciaran nodded. Why woudn't she? She had fallen for him in the middle of the war, and it was secret to no one, except Artorias, of course. She made sure nobody would tell him, ever. 

Artorias had his jaw open, and was stuttering something incoherent. In a second of complete irrationality, some strange, demonic desire took over Ciaran, and she kissed him there and then. Of course, she had kissed people before, but she found she suddenly forgot how she was supposed to do it. Artorias, however, helped her, guiding her mouth into a position comfortable for both. Then, when it ended, after what seemed like an eternity, she just left the inn, taking Artorias' coat with her to cover herself. Artorias was left where he was, smiling like an idiot. Nobody had seemed to notice. 

"Told you Ciaran would go first." Whispered Anri to Oscar, supressing a laugh. "Now, c'mon, pay up!" 

Oscar groaned, and gave her two-hundred souls he had intended to pay for his drinks with. He supposed Solaire wouldn't mind lending him the money, but Oscar didn't want to ask for this. But, honestly, he couldn't stay mad at Anri's smile, her dark-green eyes, and her blonde hair, not quite as messy as Sieglinde's, tied into a ponytail. Perhaps, one day, he'd find the courage Ciaran seemed to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of the Darkmoon are basically the cops.  
> Gough makes the paint himself, using the blood of bloated-heads in Oolacile.  
> I think I'll make something about the war of the dragons, next. And, yes, I will be shipping Oscar and Anri.


	7. Struggle of the Elite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickert, Beatrice, Artorias, Ornstein, Ciaran, Sieglinde, Rhea, Anri, Horace, Solaire and Oscar go camping to the Darkroot Basin for a week.  
> While everyone is having fun, Oscar struggles to maintain his beliefs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two-parter, like Lautrec's

Oscar wasn't exactly happy. He was sitting down near the lake at the Darkroot Basin, his eyes swollen and red, hidden by his helmet. His sword, now broken by Artorias, lay at his side, along with his Crest Shield. He had his armor on, but it had been teared apart by Sif. Indeed, Oscar wasn't happy. He was angry, a bit sad, but more than anything, he was shameful. For how he'd reacted. For his broken sword, and the rags he was wearing. For being where he was, alone, crying, instead of facing the others and apologizing, or receiving any punishment. Shameful that the others thought of him as an Elite Knight. Shameful that he had most certainly disappointed his father, may he rest in piece. 

It had been Rickert's idea, strangely enough. One good day, he came out of his house with Beatrice next to him, bags bigger than Havel's helmet under his eyes, and announced in the Trove that he wanted to go camping for a week. Immediately, Artorias suggested going to the Darkroot Basin, the place where he had spent most of his childhood. Ciaran and Ornstien joined the little group, of course, and so did Solaire. Hawkwood decided to pass, Griggs and Logan were out of town, and Siegmeyer and Siegward were training some younglings into becoming proper knights of Catarina. Lautrec was working, Selena was busy searching for two men, and Patches didn't like very much the idea of leaving his inn, for some reason. Spurred by Solaire, Oscar, Anri and Horace went too, and so did Sieglinde, since she had nothing better to do. Rhea decided to go as well, the girl had been neglecting her religious duties more and more, but they technically weren't an obligation, so nothing bad really happened. And so it was settled, in two days they'd set off for the Dakroot Basin. 

Oscar decided to pack only the necessary. He brought a tent for himself, a sleeping back, spare shirts and underwear, his swimsuit, a book and his soapstone, in case he had to call anyone. He carried his Astora Straight Sword and his Crest Shield on himself, like every time he had to bring those. 

Solaire had it trickier. He'd packed way too many clothes, three sleeping bags in case somebody forgot theirs, or one broke, and basically the entire bathroom. He'd also brought many kinds of snacks, and the Sunlight Shield was way too big. Not as big as Artorias' greatshield, but he had to put it in another bag, as Solaire insisted on not carrying it with himself, for whatever reason. 

Transport was much simpler than what they'd thought. Only Rickert and Ornstein had cars, each being able to take up to 5 people, but Artorias and Ciaran decided they would ride Sif, they claimed she was faster anyways. 

Oscar and Solaire got rather lucky, and went there with Sieglinde in Ornstein's car, who regaled them with stories about the war of the dragons. 

"So, what a lot of people don't actually know..." He started. "Is that this war was actually to defend Firelink. You hear in stories that Gwyn fought the dragons with Nito, may he rest in peace, the Izalith family and whatnot, then he used the dragons' bones to build the city, but it's all bullshit. Firelink existed way before Gwyn, he only inherited it, and had to defend it against a sudden wave of dragons." 

"But we learned that Gwyn took a more...offensive approach to the war." 

Ornstein scoffed. "That wasn't Gwyn. It was the Firstborn." He made a sufficient smile, but his companions didn't seem to get it, except Solaire, but he remained quiet. He'd already heard this story many, many times. "The Firstborn was Gwyn's son. He would actually lead Firelink's forces against the dragons. After the Firstborn won the war, Gwyn decided to vanish him, as he feared he would then attempt to rule over Firelink himself." 

Sieglinde was leaning over, she loved stories of any kind. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity, and she couldn't help herself to ask questions. "What was his name?" 

Ornstein stopped the car. He looked at Sieglinde, with a cold, stony look. Solaire intervened. 

"He has no name, Sieglinde. For he knows that false adornments matter not in the face of adversity, as such, it is his wish that he shall not be named." 

"But he must have a name, yes?" Sieglinde seemed to ignore the effect her question had caused on Ornstein. 

Solaire cleared his throat. "He...he does, Sieglinde, but...it is not known. It is forgotten. Only Ornstein and Gwyn know the Firstborn's name, and they would die before even uttering it's initial." Sieglinde accepted this answer, and both Ornstein and Solaire seemed to relax a bit. 

"So...why don't you tell us a story about the war, Ornstein?" Oscar spoke. 

The Dragonslayer continued driving, his mood much more cheerful, and they spent the next two hours hearing about Artorias' recklessness, how Ciaran would just appear out of nowhere, once when Arty was bathing, how Ornstein would fight dragons along with the Firstborn, only the two of them, and win, and lastly, with a tint of melancholy, about Gough's reverberating, amicable laugh, his unmatchable skill with his greatbow, and how he once turned the war in their favor, sniping Kalameet from the air. While he didn't kill the black dragon, Kalameet escaped, balancing the tides of the battle and, ultimately, leading to the Firstborn's victory. 

They were the last to reach the Darkroot Basin. Horace and Anri had already set their own tents, Beatrice and Rickert had trouble setting theirs, as the witch would keep chatting with Artorias and Rhea. Talking about Rhea, she didn't have a sleeping bag, and Solaire was more than ecstatic to gift her one of the three he'd brought. Artorias and Ciaran didn't have tents or sleeping bags, but they would sleep using Sif as shelter, as she was huge. 

The first day was rather uneventful. Artorias gave everyone a little tour around the Basin, and they met Shiva of the East, a foreigner, friend of Artorias, who regularly came Darkroot Forest to hunt, passing trough the Basin. Artorias also presented them to Alvina, saying that she was the one who raised him, along with Sif. Alvina sort of denied it, but nobody really understood what she had wanted to say, as she used old words and her jokes didn't make any sense to anyone but Artorias and Ornstein. 

The second day was much better. Artorias led them to the lake, where everyone started changing into their swimsuits, except Ornstein, who didn't want to take off his armor. 

"Uh...guys, I actually forgot my swimsuit...so..." He gulped. "I'll...uh...go back to the camp, yeah. Bye!" 

"Ah, Ornstein, my friend, it matters not!" Solaire hadn't gone into the water yet, and he dug into his bag. "For I have brought another piece of swimwear, just for this occasion!" 

"Oh...haha...Solaire..." He got closer to the Warrior of Sunlight and whispered something. 

In that moment Artorias snapped. "That's right! Ornstein doesn't know how to swim." This made everyone burst out laughing, except for the Abysswalker, Ciaran and Solaire. 

Oscar managed to recover the composture. "Ornstein, if you want, I could teach you the basics, so you may enjoy the water at least." Ornstein politely declined, and he almost ran back to the camp. Anri and Horace approached Oscar. 

"Uhm...if it wouldn't be too much of a bother, would you teach Horace and I instead?" Oscar looked at Anri, and he was a bit startled. Her swimsuit was light blue, and she had her hair tied into a ponytail, as always, though stray strands made their way into her face, making her look even cuter. Oscar didn't outright answer, involuntarily opting to turn into a red, hot bonfire right there. Horace noticed, and he only smiled a bit. Sieglinde, who was also near them, started giggling uncontrollably. Anri either ignored both Oscar's blush and Sieglinde's laugh or didn't notice them, which was good. Oscar decided to put on his helmet, which he had brought with him of course, and managed to answer yes. Anri then smiled, leaving Oscar in a much worse situation. He did his best to show both of them how to float, and to tread through the water, even in the most basic of ways. Horace proved to be quite adept at floating, but Anri was much better at swimming itself, and Oscar taught her how to do the breast stroke. When they were leaving, Horace approached Oscar while smiling, and patted him on the shoulder. 

The others already knew how to swim, and were enjoying their time in different ways. Solaire and Sieglinde would race each other through the lake, as both of them were excellent swimmers. Beatrice was trying to coerce Rhea into getting into the water, and Rickert was just floating, seemingly asleep. Artorias and Ciaran had gone to a more private spot, and didn't return until everybody else was already wiping themselves with their towels. They seemed a bit dizzy, and Ciaran's cheeks had a small rosy tone to them. Artorias had his helmet on again, but he seemed to sort of ignore the others. 

The men and women went to separate places to change, as expected, and Oscar learned that everyone had seen his...slight slip when talking to Anri. Except Artorias, of course. 

"Man, you sure were having fun teaching Anri how to swim, eh?" Rickert laughed at his own joke, but nobody else followed him. "Ok, but seriously. You looked like Beatrice when I-" Horace, still smiling, covered Rickert's mouth with his hand, since nobody wanted to hear what had to be done for Beatrice to blush. 

"Jokes aside, friend, is there something you want to tell us?" Solaire gave Oscar a comforting, gentle look, which would have been nice had he not been completely naked at that exact moment. 

"I promise you Solaire, there's nothing to talk about." 

"Liiiiiaaaaaar." Rickert managed to get Horace off of him. 

Then, suddenly, Artorias intervened. "Wait a second." He looked at Oscar, who still had his helmet on. "Do you like Anri?" 

Oscar gulped, and everyone heard it, which caused Rickert to start laughing. 

"But there's nothing wrong with that." Artorias still seemed a bit hazed. "I love Ciaran. Rickert, you love Beatrice. I don't see why you're making a big deal out of this." Everyone stopped. Rickert stared at Artorias, his jaw hanging. Horace put it back in place. 

"So that's why you and Ciaran dissapeared." Solaire seemed unfazed. "See, Oscar? Why don't you admit it like Arty here?" 

Oscar didn't answer. He just took off his swimsuit and put on a blue shirt, along with some shorts. He waited for everyone minus Horace to leave. The bigger man sat next to Oscar. 

"I...I suppose I do like her...I don't know, it's weird. It hasn't really happened before with anyone..." He looked at Horace, who just smiled. After that, they went back to the camp. Ornstein was going to tell some stories at the bonfire they'd made. 

When they reached the bonfire, the girls were already there. They all looked at him with intent, except for Anri and Ciaran. Talking about Anri, she didn't act in any weird or special way, which was kind of a relief to Oscar. He sat next to Solaire, and took a look around. Beatrice was nibbling at Rickert's neck, who was making futile attempts at stopping her. Sieglinde was laughing at them, and Rhea was conversating with Ciaran, who was snuggling with Artorias and Ornstein was talking with Solaire about something regarding the Warriors of Sunlight. 

After a few minutes, Ornstein called for everyone to shut up, and started telling the story. 

"So, this is one about how Artorias stumbled upon Kalameet, and how Gough saved him." Artorias groaned, and Ciaran started laughing, but she quickly stopped when the Abysswalker glared at her. 

"Right...so, we, Arty, Ciaran, Gough and me, were sent to Oolacile to watch for any incoming attacks from there. So, we were...well, watching. We climbed this tower, and for hours didn't see anything." He took a pause. "So, then Artorias has to go pee." He was smiling now, and so was Ciaran. "Of course, we tell him to go, we can keep watching the place ourselves, and so he goes and whatnot." 

"After, say, half an hour, we hear a scream. I go down to see what's happening, and after searching for a bit, I find Artorias outside of the city, in a clearing in the forest. There's a slight problem, though. This big, gigantic dragon is right next to him, and they're fighting. Of course, I call Ciaran with my soapstone and give her a small, quick resume of the situation, while..." 

"By that he means he said 'DRAGON, ARTY, BYE.'" Interrupted Ciaran, chuckling. 

"Sure, right. All of this while Artorias kept yelling nonsense in old english or whatever. That thing in which you say 'thou' and 'thee' that I couldn't speak for the love of my life." 

"My father sometimes talks like that, when he's really drunk." Sieglinde was also having her part in the story. Ornstein nodded, and continued. 

"So, I start fighting the big, black dragon with Arty, but we aren't having any luck, as the bastard stays mostly in the air and whatnot. After a while, Ciaran comes too, but she can't fly either, so we're just stuck there, avoiding his weird black flames." 

"But this is the best part. While we're doing this, an arrow, a big, realy big arrow comes out of nowhere and hits the dragon. Then another one. And one more. We look around, and Gough is running towards us while shooting his greatbow. It was great. So the dragon falls, and we start beating him up, Artorias even took his one eye out with his sword." 

"However, the dragon was still bigger and stronger, and so he managed to brush us off and leave. And then Gough tells us that the big dragon was Kalameet, and that he's one of the more powerful of the dragons. And so, after that, we return to the watchtower, cause Artorias had no chance to pee." 

Everyone remained silent for a minute or so, until Rhea broke it. 

"That wasn't such a good story." 

"Hey! What do you mean?" Ornstein riled up really easily. 

"Yeah, it was sort of lacking something, you need to practice storytelling, Ornstein." Sieglinde looked at the Dragonslayer disapprovingly. 

"And who are you to say that?" 

"Well, Uncle Ward loved to tell me about the old knights of Catarina when he was drunk, and he was really good at it." 

Ornstein opened his mouth to say something else, but Ciaran interrupted them. "Sieglinde's right, you're shit at telling stories, but its also true that the sun has set and I'm tired, so stop arguing and lets go to sleep, eh?" Everyone agreed, Ornstein reluctantly, and they all went to their tents. 

Oscar and Solaire shared their tent. 

"Now we are alone friend, you can tell me anything." Solaire was looking upwards while talking. 

"What?" 

"About Anri, Oscar. Is it true?" 

"Oh...uh...I...I guess so, yeah..." 

"Ah, marvelous. It truly is great to love someone." 

"Solaire, I don't love her. I just think she's cute, and...nice..." Solaire looked at him, smiling. "Go on, please." 

"And she's really gentle and considerate...and funny, sometimes...And she's a great fencer..." Solaire's smile grew wider every second, and he was suppresing a laugh. "Ok, fine, maybe I do like her a lot." Oscar resigned and started laughing too. 

"It is not something to be ashamed of, friend. You heard Artorias." 

"I know, but...I'm an Elite Knight...or I try to be, and I shouldn't be falling in love or worrying about romance." 

Solaire suddenly grew serious. "You really need to stop worrying about that, Oscar. It's in the past, you are not an Elite Knight, and you don't even want to be one." 

"But...Solaire..." 

"Friend, learn to let go." With that, Solaire turned to sleep, and so did Oscar. 

That night, he dreamt that he was sparring with Anri. He would lose, but Anri would encourage him to keep trying. Things kept on like that, until Anri's voice grew cold, and deep, and it wasn't Anri anymore. It was his father, who was trying to teach him how to wield a sword. But then, a fire engulfed his father, who didn't even scream in pain, and just kept looking at Oscar. With anger, tiredness. Dissapointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been cooking this one up since I started this work.  
> Soapstones are kind of like phones, but only call other people. Phones also exist, but soapstones are quicker.  
> Hope you enjoyed it.


	8. Memories in Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar remembers, on the third and fourth day of camping. He wishes he hadn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's gonna be a three-parter. I wrote this at 2 am, so expect mistakes and whatnot. I'll check up on it to fix all of that, after I sleep.

The third day was expected by some, and a fun surprise for others, since Sieglinde and Ornstein decided they'd organize a little game of capture-the flag. The whole Basin would Basin would be available for the game, since nobody ever went there, really, and they decided to use Solaire's other two sleeping bags for the flags. Artorias sketched two maps of the area for the two teams, and they were all set to go. 

The team distribution was so damn unfair it was disgusting. On the one side, Sieglinde, Solaire, Horace, Anri, Oscar and Rhea were one team. Four of them were repesctable fighters, Solaire was a great leader, and both Horace and Anri knew how to escape from sketchy situations, or to improvise and adapt to new situations. Sieglinde had been trained by Siegmeyer and Siegward, both of them being some of the most skilled fighters in Firelink, and Rhea knew how to cast healing miracles, through prayers and orations. Oscar was the only one who wasn't that useful, really. His swordsmanship was mediocre, he wasn't quick at all and had no means to support the others. If anything, he was more steadfast than the others, but that wouldn't prove to be of much help, especially in the face of the other team. 

Every advantage the first group would have was quickly overshadowed by Artorias, Ciaran and Ornstein. The three of them alone were already enought to turn this into an unfair fight, but Beatrice and Rickert were also part of their team. Oscar thought that, honestly, they might as well spend the day sleeping, and the results would be the same. 

Even then, he stood at his team's base, sword and shield in hand, with Rhea. Solaire and Sieglinde were nearby, while Anri and Horace were scouting for the enemy. Oscar wasn't excited about any of this. He was stuck doing guard duty because of his inability to help the rest in any meaningful way, and that was a bit hurting, although he knew he couldn't blame anybody but himself for it. 

Rhea also seemed to be bored, since she sought to spark a conversation. 

"Oscar, are you really not able to go help the others?" 

Oscar snickered. "I know, I know. What a shame. But what they said is true. I'm not good at any kind of physically demanding activity. Never have, and never will." 

She then asked what everyone else would have asked in this situation, but that Oscar oh-so desperately hoped she'd forget. "But aren't you an Elite Knight?" 

Oscar laughed sarcastically. "I believe I've told you before I didn't complete my training. And even then, I'm just not good at this things." He thought the conversation would end there, but the priestess had other ideas. 

"Why didn't you finish your training?" 

"Uh...Rhea? I've told you all of this before. My father died, and he was the one responsible of teaching me." 

"I know." She looked Oscar through the visor of his helmet, dead in the eye. "Tell me more about his death." 

Oscar gulped. Technically, everyone knew the way his father had died. The thing is, not everyone knew that...well, it was Oscar's father that had died. It wasn't a delicate theme, per say, Oscar never held that much affection for his father, but it wasn't a fond memory either. 

"You know when the Izalith manor exploded?" 

Rhea seemed taken aback by this. "Don't tell me..." 

"You've ever heard the name William of Astora?" 

Rhea nodded, her eyes suddenly expressing regret. 

"Well, that's my father. And he died rescuing some survivors from the fire." 

Rhea was most certainly surprised. After a moment, she spoke again. 

"I...I'm sorry...I should have been more delicate about this...what a tragedy that fire was...but what a hero your father must have been, Sir Oscar." 

Oscar laughed again, but kept silent. Rhea looked at him. She'd spoken to many people who were burdened by something in her life, and it didn't take long for her to realize Oscar had something to say about his father's heroism. She kept looking at him, but the other man seemed to ignore her. After some more minutes, he sighed. 

"Alright. I get it. It's just...I can't see him as a hero. Every day, he'd wake me up before sunrise, and we'd spend the whole day practicing swordsmanship. He'd randomly invite important people to test my manners, the only thing I ever got right in all of his bullshit. But still, he'd lash out after dinner at me for any mistake. Other days, he'd tr-" Oscar stood up, alarmed, and looked around. 

"Oscar? What's wro-" Rhea was interrupted by Oscar himself bashing her with his shield, getting her out of the way of a Heavy Soul Arrow, and receiving it himself. To his credit, though, he didn't flinch. "Call Solaire and Sieglinde through the soapstone." He looked at a specific spot through the trees. "We've got company." 

Indeed, Beatrice came from the woods, her staff preparing a Homing Soulmass. "Nice one, sweety. Putting yourself in front of the lady. What a gentleman." As always, she was slightly laughing. Oscar put his shield up and they started to circle each other. Rhea was already on the soapstone, with a close eye on Beatrice, with her talisman and her orations for the Allfather ready. 

For a while, they kept on like that. Beatrice then did something unthinkable. She casted a simple, normal Soul Arrow, but directed it towards Rhea. Oscar turned, which was comlpletely worthless, since the priestess uttered some words and deflected the sorcery with Force, but Ciaran fell from atop a tree and kicked Oscar in the head. He managed to save his fall with a roll, and somehow got his shield up to receive Ciaran's flurry of slashes. Beatrice was preparing another Heavy Soul Arrow, so Rhea started praying, so that she may deflect it with Wrath of the Gods, and got close to Oscar. 

However, this proved to be worthless. Ciaran feinted an attack with her golden tracer, and knocked the shield out of Oscar's hand with her dark silver tracer. The man was paralyzed for a moment, and Ciaran used this moment to sink her knee into his abdomen. While this happened, Beatrice had already casted her Heavy Soul Arrow, which hit Rhea on the side, distracted as she was by what happened next to her. The witch used this moment to sprint to the sleeping bag. Rhea sighed with resignment. She wasn't a fan of these kinds of activities anyways, she didn't really care. But something stopped Beatrice. A sword was flung out of nowhere and hit her on her back, stopping her. 

"No." Oscar, on the ground, had his hand extended, and his sword wasn't beside him. Ciaran was just as surprised as the other girls by what happened, but recovered faster and immobilized Oscar on the ground. 

The knight's desperate move resulted in saving the match, however, as Sieglinde, who had received Rhea's call, ran and tackled Beatrice to the ground, while Solaire and Anri faced Ciaran, who decided to escape, seeing how she was outnumbered. 

"Phew. That was close. What...happened here?" Anri's tone was shaky from running. 

Rhea proceeded to tell the others the story, while Sieglinde and Beatrice kept on struggling against each other. 

"That was most certainly close. Oscar, you saved us all, haha! Now, let us help Sieglinde over there, please. Beatrice can still get the flag." Solaire approached the two women struggling with his usual calmness. 

They immobilized the witch, and started to tie her up with some rope Sieglinde had brought, just in case they were in a situation like this. 

But then, Horace came out of nowehere, panting, and without his shield. 

"Ho...race? Horace, what happened? Where are Artorias...and Ornstein?" In response, Horace started gesturing in sign language, so quickly Anri got nothing out of it. 

They had no time to waste, though, as Ciaran sprung from a tree yet again, but this time, followed by Artorias. The two of them knocked Sieglinde and Solaire, who didn't have their weapons at the moment, busy as they were tying Beatrice up, and Ornstein came from somewhere else and jumpped at Horace, who managed to defend himself, joined by Anri. 

Of course, this left Artorias and Ciaran against Oscar and Rhea. 

The Lord's Blade immediately jumped at Oscar, striking him mercilessly with her tracers. Oscar, however, managed to keep his guard up, and even tried to counter attack, which was his last mistake of the match, as Artorias jumped at him with his strange spinning slash, and Beatrice ran to the flag, and this time there were no last-resort sword throws to stop her from taking it back to her base. Everyone stopped fighting when they heard Rickert call to their soapstones, announcing his team had won. 

If Oscar was slightly irritated before, he was now furious. Or...more like frustrated. He didn't talk with anyone when they returned to the bonfire. 

"Man. That was fun. I haven't had something like this since Logan decided to start blasting in the middle of the class, to test out magical shields." Rickert exaggerated a sigh, and leaned on to Beatrice, who laughed. 

"Oh, come on. You did absolutely nothing. If anything, Ornstein should be saying that, he kept us busy for the whole thing!" Anri was laughing with everyone else, talking about the match. Horace nodded, smiling as well. 

"Well, yes. But I made the planning..." Rickert said the last word with a mysterious, reserved tone, that made everyone laugh even more, and sipped his Estus. 

"Oh shut up. You should have seen how I almost push Artorias into the lake!" Sieglinde seemed to inflate her chest, with pride, and took another swing of the Siegbräu she'd brought for herself 

"May I remind you, Sieglinde, that I was trying to clean my sword?" Sieglinde only snickered, calling him out for his excuses. 

"But I think we're forgetting something, cause when Horace jumped at me, Rickert and Beatrice, trying to get the flag, I was genuinely scared for a second." Ciaran was sitting at Artorias' lap, and they seemed to be much closer than anybody else. Horace only smiled, and Ornstein remarked that the man looked like an ogre or some giant in the shadows of the woods. 

They kept on laughing like that, commenting on funny or tense moments of the match, or complimenting each other on something they'd done. Everyone, minus Oscar, of course, who was silent, with his helmet still on, analyzing his two duels with Ciaran, and thinking what he could have done better, what he hadn't done, and why he'd lost both of them. Anri and Rhea took him out of his mind. 

"But I think not enough people are talking about Oscar here." Anri patted her friend on the back, making Oscar snap, after which he started to redden furiously. Thank goodness he had his helmet on. 

"Oscar? I didn't even see him! What was he doin' alone with Rhea. eh? It's not honorable to pick up ladies while playing capture-the-flag, y'know?" Everyone laughed, but they were getting a bit tired. 

"He held off Beatrice and Ciaran, so that Solaire, Sieglinde and Anri could come." Rhea explained. 

"I only threw my sword at Beatrice. Ciaran took my shield off, and even then, I couldn't keep them at bay when they came again." 

Ciaran dismissed what he'd said. "C'mon Oscar. I've fought on wars, and trained for years. Almost nobody here can realistically expect to beat me in a duel. You stood your ground pretty well, and throwing the sword was a...well, interesting move." Beatrice commented that now her back hurt like hell, but Artorias stopped both. 

"That's all well and good, but it is true that your swordsmanship is below average, Oscar. I'd have expected more from William's son." It was a harsh remark, but Oscar seemed unfazed. Everyone else looked at Oscar, with some exceptions, in a mix between astonishment and disbelief. 

"You shouldn't say things like that, Arty." Beatrice said, in between yawns. "It's not nice at all." 

"But it's true. I think Oscar should be prepared to face stronger opponents in a duel, after all, the darkwraiths aren't gonna hit him in the back, with the blade itself, they're gonna stab him in the-" 

"Ok, that's enough." Rickert stood up, destabilizing Beatrice, who had been resting on his shoulder. "We should all go to sleep, we only got two more days, after all!" 

The next and fourth day was much calmer. They'd gone to the lake again, and this time, Ornstein accepted to be taught by Oscar, who now had three students to take care of. Everyone else was hanging out on the shore, since it was a bit colder that day. Artorias was telling stories about how Havel once defeated a Hydra at this very lake, who'd eat anybody who came to the Basin. 

Anri, Horace and Ornstein decided they were too cold, so they went out of the water, and Oscar followed suit. Soon, they were all simply chatting, and many decided to take a walk around the Basin. 

That was what Oscar decided to do, hoping for some time alone that wasn't in his sleep. He thought about many things. What he'd told Rhea. What Artorias had said. What Solaire had said, some nights before. 

His father hadn't been an incredible knight. He rivaled Ornstein when it came to fighting skills, he was noble and humble, and had the mannerisms of the highest of lords. He was courteous and just, gentle and firm. He'd been what every knight aspired to be. Yet none of them could even come close, and Oscar was one of them. 

He wasn't aware about wether William had known about this or not. He hadn't lied to Rhea, he'd wake up before sunrise, and he would spend every day training to become an Elite Knight. Oscar gave it his all, even if he wasn't good at it- in fact, he was terrible at every of those things. But still, he'd stand up after every failure, for years, and years. But it wasn't good enough. It never was, and it would never be. Then, in one last, unparalleled act of self-sacrifice and heroism, his father saves three Izalith sisters from the fire that engulfed their home, like he was showing Oscar just how much better he was, what the poor Oscar would never be able to accomplish. It was the worst of jokes, that spelled out _dissapointment_ to Oscar in the most subtle, yet most notable of ways, in the best style of his father. 

Nothing else worth noting happened that day. Oscar went to sleep, and this time, he didn't talk to Solaire at all. he did dream. Similar to before, although this time, he was sparring with Artorias, who kept telling him to straighten his sword, to put his foot forward, to doubt less. His voice would change with that of William's sporadically, and he'd sometimes hear the voice of his companions, with several comments about his performance. 'Nice one, sweety. Putting yourself in front of the lady. What a gentleman.' Artorias would then turn into Ciaran, who kept silent, instead opting to show Oscar his failures by immobilizing him, stabbing him in various places, and disarming him. 'Oscar, you saved us all, haha!' Then, he'd turn into Anri again. this time, she'd be supportive of him. Anri helped him correct what he was doing wrong, and soon Oscar found he was much comfortable in this situation. 'It's not honorable to pick up ladies while playing capture-the-flag, y'know?' Anri dissapeared then. He heard laughing. 'Your swordsmanship is below average, Oscar.' He forgot everything Anri taught him, and was soon struck by an invisible foe. 'Oscar? I didn't even see him!' After he got beaten up by this enemy, a fire started to engulf his surroundings, the laughing became louder, until the fire formed a face, from which the laughter came from. the face talked, its voice a mixture of that of his comrades, and his father. "But aren't you an Elite Knight?" The face said. Then, the fire swallowed Oscar, and only silence remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say. I really like Oscar as a character.  
> Just imagine how it must all be a toll on him. He's one of the last remainders of Astoran nobility, and he has to go to the asylum, with only a vague prophecy to guide him. Imagine all he has gone through, only to die at the last step.  
> He knows he's gonna die. But he asks of you, to fulfill the prophecy, so that he may die with hope in his heart.  
> Anyways, that's about it. Hope you enjoyed it.


	9. The Broken Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last day, in which Oscar comes to realize some things, with help of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last part. It was sort of difficult to make this one.  
> William is Oscar's father, in case somebody forgot- I always forget characters' names, so there it is.

One more day. One more day, and they’d be out of here. Oscar could return to his apartment, and clear himself with a movie, and the next day, he'd return to his job as a clerk at Andre’s shop.

He felt exposed in this little trip. Like this, he didn't have any obligations, or responsibilities to preoccupy himself with. In a way, he was bare before his friends, and before himself. 

The fifth day started out like any other day. Beatrice and Rickert were preparing a small breakfast, and everybody else was either asleep, or trying to find clothes to put on in the messes that were their tents. After that, they all headed for the lake once more, since it was another hot day, and Sieglinde told a funny story about a drunk Hawkwood, confusing Siegward with an actual onion. 

"So, Uncle Ward was trying really hard to not get angry, since this had happened many times, and a knight of Catarina ought to maintain its temper at all times, but then Hawkwood grabbed a knife..." 

"No. No, he didn't." Anri found the story extremely hilarious, to a point everyone found strange. 

"Oh, he did. He tried to peel Uncle Ward's armor off!" This elicited Anri to burst out laughing, followed by Horace, Solaire, and then Beatrice and Rickert. "So Uncle Ward knocked him unconscious, right? And then he dropped him outside, with a pillow, and took Hawkwood's key." 

The little story woke up everyone fully. They kept commenting about it until they reached the lake, and just as Oscar was starting to take off his shirt, Artorias, with his armor on, and carrying his greatsword, stopped him. 

"Oscar, could you please come with me for a moment? Keep your clothes on, and bring your weapons. And keep your helmet on." He then left for a secluded part of the woods, with Sif following in tow. 

Confused, Oscar did as he was told, and was soon in the forest, looking for Artorias. He was surprised by the Abysswalker attacking him from a tree. Oscar managed to put his shield in front of him, but he was still pushed down by Artorias. 

After this, Artorias backed off. Oscar stood up, and readied his sword and shield. Needles to say, he didn't like where this was going. 

"I imagine you're confused as to why I jumped on you with my sword." Oscar didn't do anything. "As you may remember, two days ago I remarked upon your lacking skill in swordsmanship." Oscar dropped his weapons, and stared at Artorias, his look a mix of surprise and anger, hidden by his helmet. 

"Therefore, I have decided I am to help you improve in the art of fencing, so that you may be ready to face any dangers to come." 

Oscar didn't even respond. He simply turned around and tried to leave, but Sif was ready for this, and was already blocking his path. Behind him, Artorias was waiting. He sighed, irritated. 

"Look, Arty, I know you mean well and all, but I'm not doing this." 

"You are. Tell me, Oscar, what would you do if a Darkwraith were to attack you, in the middle of the night, in a narrow alley, where you have no escape?" 

"I'd hold him off and call a friend." 

"But what if you can't hold him off? Or if everyone is asleep? Or both?" 

Oscar shrugged. "Guess I'd die, then." 

Artorias dropped his sword at this, and closed the distance between him and Oscar in two steps. He then kicked Oscar. 

"Never, ever, not once in your entire life say that, Oscar of Astora. Now, you've only reassured me on the fact that you need to learn how to properly use your sword. Stand up, and we'll begin." 

Oscar groaned, and took a while to stand up. This was the last thing he'd ever wanted. He's spar with Anri sometimes, of course, but this was different. Artorias was forcing Oscar to train with him. 

They did train, but between Artorias' intolerance and Oscar's bad attitude, they reached nowhere and the situation turned worse. Oscar failed to understand what Artorias tried to teach him, which in turn made the Abysswalker be more violent with his lessons, which made Oscar even more reluctant to continue. 

They kept on like this for the rest of the morning, and until the evening, and Oscar was reminded more and more of similar sessions with his father. The man in front of him wasn't the light-hearted Arty, who'd blush when Ciaran held hands with him, who'd laugh with Ornstein about strange anecdotes from the war, and who would walk Sif once every two hours, if only to spend some time with her. This was the Wolf Knight who'd fought dragons and been on the edge of death countless times, the Abysswalker who braved the decrepit ruins of New Londo, and brought and end to the strange infestation that threatened to ravage the entirety of Firelink. A man who'd been through humanity's worst, and returned. A man eerily similar to William of Astora. 

"Oscar, I will not tolerate this. Stand up immediately, and try to understand what I'm saying. Your enemies won't be as indulgent as I am, explaining what I'm going to do, so I humbly ask of you to put some effort and parry my attack, by Alvina's teeth!" 

Oscar had heard him. Ever since he was a kid, he'd listened to his father insult him, humiliate him and shout at him. And he hadn't done anything. How could he? A small child, barely able to hold a shield, against a hero, for William had participated in the war as well. But this time, titles and deeds didn't matter. This time, Oscar didn't listen to reason. This time, Oscar didn't tell himself that his father was right, and he should improve. This time, Oscar of Astora exploded onto Artorias. 

"And who the fuck are you to say that?!?" Artorias took a step back at hearing this. "Do you know how long I've been training to get this shit right? Do you know how much I've struggled to try and fucking 'parry' my father's stupid wooden sword?" 

Artorias took a step forward. 

"Sixteen fucking years, Arty. I don't give a shit how many dragons you killed. I don't care if you saved New Londo. I've been trying, failing and trying again, and shouted at, and punished, and then humiliated by my father, and then did it all again the next day, for sixteen fucking years." 

Artorias seemed to doubt where he stood. "Oscar...I...I didn't know this. You could have told me, and I'd have-" 

Oscar laughed. "What would you have done? You'd give me a cookie and let me play with Sif after ten minutes of smashing sticks at one another?" He laughed even more. "Don't worry, Arty. I'm never gonna learn how to parry, or how to block an attack, or how to ever use a sword in my entire life. Now you can leave." 

But Artorias got closer, and lowered his sword. "Oscar...if you keep on thinking like that, then of course you won't. You have to leave those thoughts, forget them, to plant the idea that you can!" 

"I told you to get the fuck outta here." Oscar was yelling again, and tears had started to form, behind the helmet's visor. 

"You told me I could leave, but I won't. Oscar, you need to go out there, and face your fea-" 

Oscar had enough. Was Artorias mocking him? He'd tried to 'face his fears' countless times, but simply thinking of his father's angry eyes made him tremble. 

In any case, Oscar tackled Artorias, who was pushed on the ground, surprised by the sudden turn of events. Oscar then started to fling his sword at the Abysswalker, who blocked the attacks with his arms, and then, with one slice of his own greatsword, slashed Oscar's weapon, breaking it. He then pushed Oscar off him, and started to speak in old english, of which Oscar understood a little. He couldn't get a thing, however, as Sif jumped on top of him and started to bite him and beat him with her paws and jaw. Oscar thought he saw Artorias running at him, still yelling some nonsense, but he lost his consciousness soon after. 

Back at the lake, everyone was putting their normal clothes back on, as they had to pack their stuff, to leave by the morning of the next day. 

They were all chatting, on the way to the bonfire, when Ornstein stopped, alarmed. 

"What's the matter?" Ciaran asked. 

"I...think I heard Arty say 'thou'." Soon, Ciaran shared the same worried look. 

Beatrice and Rickert approached them. "What's the matter?" 

"Artorias is speaking in old english." Ciaran explained, looking at Beatrice, who seemed terrified by this. 

"No...are you serious?" She said, while Rickert, confused, tried to figure out what was happening. Ornstein nodded. 

"Shit...Rick, tell everyone to come, something's gone wrong." After this, Beatrice, Ciaran and Ornstein left to where the Dragonslayer had heard Artorias speak. 

While going there, Rickert asked Beatrice what was this all about. 

"Artorias' usually a pretty calm dude, but when things get out of his control, he starts speaking in old english, y'know, saying 'thee' and 'thou' and adding 'eth' at the end of everything...It happened a lot while we were on New Londo, trying to figure out what was happening." Beatrice had helped Artorias banish the plague of New Londo, seeing how she was adept at magic and had importan medical knowledge. Rickert often forgot that, for personal reasons. 

"Well, ok, but...wasn't Artorias with Oscar or something?" Talking while running had never been Rickert's forte, but apparently the situation called for it. 

"Yep." 

"And Oscar's like a piece of bread. He never does anything!" 

Beatrice stopped for a second to laugh a bit. "Well, sure, but who knows. Maybe he has a _dark side_ or something!" Both of them laughed, which made them fall behind the rest, but they really didn't mind much. 

When everyone else arrived, Oscar was on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Artorias was sitting next to a tree, and he was holding Sif, who was barking furiously. Artorias didn't seem really happy either. 

Rhea was the first to react. "What happened in here, Artorias?" 

Artorias explained, while Ciaran helped him calm Sif down, and Sieglinde and Solaire went to check wether Oscar was ok or not. 

"Oh no...this...this is really, really bad...Artorias, I don't mean to offend, but you really should have told me or Sieglinde about this." Solaire, for once, didn't sound like the jolly, calm Warrior of Sunlight everyone knew him as. 

Artorias grunted. "Why?" 

Sieglinde explained. "Let's just say Oscar doesn't take failure well..." 

Rhea, Anri and Horace went to Oscar as well, and Anri tried to take his helmet off, gently and slowly. 

A really small, broken and muffled voice came from inside the helm. "Don't." 

Anri was taken aback with surprise, and Horace held her, just as confused. Solaire seemed even more worried, and Sieglinde sighed. 

Oscar then stood up, with much effort, and took his shield and his broken sword. He then left the scene, not talking to anyone, his back curved like an old man, and barely standing up, as if the weight of his armor was too much. Rhea tried to help him, but Solaire put an arm on her shoulder, signaling that she should leave him be, 

Anri and Horace tried to follow after him, but Sieglinde stopped them, while Solaire kept apologizing to Artorias, who was looking at the ground, a bit speechless and ashamed. 

Oscar wasn't exactly happy. He was sitting down near the lake at the Darkroot Basin, his eyes swollen and red, hidden by his helmet. His sword, now broken by Artorias, lay at his side, along with his Crest Shield. He had his armor on, but it had been teared apart by Sif. Indeed, Oscar wasn't happy. He was angry, a bit sad, but more than anything, he was shameful. For how he'd reacted. For his broken sword, and the rags he was wearing. For being where he was, alone, crying, instead of facing the others and apologizing, or receiving any punishment. Shameful that the others thought of him as an Elite Knight. Shameful that he had most certainly disappointed his father, may he rest in piece. 

He had been rash, and stupid. How could he ever think that he'd been through more than Wolf Knight Artorias, the Abysswalker? He'd been wrong, as always. He should have tried harder. He should have stood up again, he should have 'faced his fears' and he should have listened. He should have been better. He should have been an Elite Knight, not the sad excuse of a man he was right now. 

It wasn't the first time something like this happened. He'd broken down the night his father died, and many times before that. But it hurt. Knowing that he'd never be able to fulfill his father's wish to be an Elite Knight, or even Artorias' small wish for him to learn how to successfully parry, hurt. 

He heard footsteps. A moment later, Solaire was by his side, and behind him, even though Oscar didn't know it, were Sieglinde, Rhea, Anri and Horace. 

"Oscar..." Solaire knew Oscar better than anyone else. He'd been on this situation before, but he was always sad to see his friend like this. "Please. You know it isn't true." 

Behind them, Anri was whispering to Sieglinde. "What's he talking about?" 

"Oscar's sad, cause he thinks he's kinda obligated to be an Elite Knight." 

Horace said something in sign language, and Anri translated it. "But...he's not good at fighting and stuff, right?" Sieglinde nodded, and looked at the two men beside the lake. 

"What's not true, Solaire? That I'm completely and utterly useless at anything, or that I shouldn't have exploded like that? Because both are true." 

"Oscar, please. Don't force yourself like this." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You very much do." Solaire dropped the begging tone, which made Oscar turn to face him. "You're always trying to be something you're not, Oscar. You force yourself to spar with Anri, even if you always lose, because you think you deserve to be bruised and what little pride you have to be torn to shreds. You stay at Andre's shop way after he's gone to sleep, tidying the place up and attending a lost customer or two because you think you deserve no sleep. And, worse of all, when you realize you don't deserve all of it, you chastise yourself like this, alone, crying, insulting yourself, just like your father did all those years ago." Oscar stayed silent. Horace was looking down, Sieglinde sighed again, and Anri's face was a mix of surprise and pity. 

Oscar looked down, and took of his helmet. He looked at Solaire again, but said nothing. The Warrior of Sunlight continued. "Do you remember when we first met, Oscar?" Oscar nodded shakily. "You were cleaning Firelink PLaza. You father had some important business with the rest of the knights, so for once you had a free day. And, let me say this again. You. Were. Cleaning. Firelink. Plaza. You collected every loose wrapper of candy, or some other thing, and then threw it at the dumpster in your street. Do you think an irresponsible, worthless, useless excuse of a man would do anything like that?" Oscar said nothing. "Sieglinde, come here." She did as she was told, unsurprised. "Please, remind Oscar here of the day your mother died." 

Sieglinde took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell the story. "It was a cold day. I was the first to find out she was dead, when I went to her room and she wasn't breathing. I immediately told father, on the next room. He said nothing, just like me. We called Uncle Siegward, and went to the backyard. Uncle Siegward, Father and I started digging a grave. We put her in the hole, as gently as possible. After that, Uncle Ward and father left to the outskirts of the city...each to different places. We...we are proud knights of Catarina, we wouldn't cry in front of the others. I stayed the rest of the day at home. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. Mother had...been ill for quite some time, and we all knew she was going to die. So I stayed in the house the whole day, trying to distract myself. I watched a movie I didn't pay attention to, played some video games, finished a comic I got for my birthday from...from you, Horace." She took another deep breath. "And then Oscar arrived. I'd invited him, yesterday, and he said he'd come the next day, but with her death, I'd forgotten...when Oscar...saw me...he...Oscar...you..." Sieglinde stopped for a second, and sobbed. "I told you what happened, and I cried...and you held me through the whole thing..." Sieglinde gulped, and the next moment she was smiling again, like usual. "Thank you, Oscar." 

Oscar sighed. "You've thanked me before." She giggled nervously, and simply shrugged. 

"But we're not done." Solaire's tone was much softer than before, but still firm. "Anri, will you refresh my memory on the day you and Horace came to Firelink?" 

Anri jumped a little. It wasn't a nice memory, per say, but she could see why Solaire wanted her to talk about it. 

"Yes...I very much could." She looked at Horace, who nodded. "So...it was at night, we were escaping Lothric and the Cathedral, and we reached Firelink, a town Horace knew about. We were being chased by some Fingers and Aldrich Faithful, who are basically the armed dogs of the Cathedral. We...entered the city through...I don't remember, but we ended up in Astora. We got distracted by the fancy architecture and houses and stuff, that the Fingers and Aldrich Faithful caught up to us. Apparently they had been much close than what we'd thought, and there were four of them, three and one. Horace...took out his halberd, and I unsheathed my sword. However, before anything happened, Oscar and Solaire were walking by...they noticed us, and one of the fingers immediately attacked Oscar. He fell to the ground, got up, and told Solaire to go for Sieglinde, Siegmeyer and Siegward...but Oscar stayed. He didn't say a thing to us, but we held the Fingers and Aldrich Faithful back, until Sieglinde and company arrived...it...was something special, Oscar, you stayed to fight with us, even though you didn't know who we were." 

"The Finger attacked me first, if not, I dunno which side I'd have taken." 

Anri, however, wasn't so sure. "That's not true! You could clearly see, Horace and I were ragged and tired and trembling, and you gave the Fingers a disgusted look before! I saw it, Oscar. And still, you were bruised and battered in the fight, but you still stood up, and did your best to guard Horace and I from danger!" 

Oscar seemed to ignore what Anri said, but Solaire intervened. "We didn't even talk to when you accepted Lautrec, when you helped Anastacia economically, how you were Patches' only customer for quite some time, after he tried to steal from Ornstein, or that time you convinced Selena to recruit Sirris into the Blades of the Darkmoon." Solaire stopped for a second, regaining his breath. "Do you see, Oscar? You are a good, kind friend to all of us. You don't need to be a strong, imperturbable knight for us to love you and care about you, Oscar. So, come on, stand up again. You don't need to be anything more or anything less than what you already are." 

Oscar looked up, at the stars. "Father wanted me to be an Elite Knight." 

Solaire seemed annoyed at this remark. "Um...may I?" Rhea had been quiet while the others talked, so her small voice came as a slight surprise to everyone. Solaire, however, took no time in allowing her to speak. 

"Oscar...while I know not of the time you spend with your father, I did meet William of Astora...and he was a man of action, not of words. I can't convince you that he was a saint, but I will say this- he wouldn't want his only son to spend his life chasing after his own shadow. He came to the church many times, and would often speak of his son, and how much he wanted you to keep going, even if you made mistakes and failed." 

Oscar laughed dryly. "Seriously? That's a pile of bullshit. He was a horrible teacher, he'd explain things like shit, I wouldn't understand anything and then he-" 

"But he never rubbed your mistakes at you, did he?" Oscar stopped. "That's..." 

Rhea continued. "Oscar, your father would speak with Bishop Havel regularly, and he always said that, besides being an Elite Knight, he wanted his only child to understand that failure isn't the end. You, Oscar, may have failed to become an Elite Knight, but you'll only disappoint your father if you get hung up about it." 

As much as he wanted not to listen to it, to Oscar, what Rhea was saying made sense. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Solaire was right too. Maybe, he didn't deserve what he did to himself. He looked at his friends, and, strangely enough, smiled. They left the lake, and Oscar thought he'd have to apologize to Artorias later. But now, he only wanted to sleep. 

While Oscar and Solaire went to their tent, Anri, Horace and Rhea looked at Sieglinde. "Did this happen before?" Rhea asked. 

"Um...well, the night his father died...that was the only time I ever remember seeing him drunk. He started talking about how he had been an asshole, and he got so angry he cut Solaire's shoulder and he almost broke my nose...he then cleaned the whole place by himself, and he cried the whole night, we stayed with him to make sure nothing else would go wrong. To be honest, at the time we didn't really understood what happened to him, as he hadn't talked much about his father..." 

Anri sighed, just like Sieglinde. "Well, we can only hope he knows that we are there for him. Now, let's go to bed, tomorrow is another day, and we don't want to make the others wait for us to leave, do we?" The rest agreed, and they went to their tents. 

That last night, Oscar dreamt again. Yet again, a fire engulfed everything, and it started talking to him with his father's voice, sometimes changing into Artorias'. But then, just as Oscar was getting sad and angry, it started to rain. Oscar was surprised, of course, and he realized that the rain was his own tears. That night, he slept soundly, and woke up the next day with a pleasant smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say on this one.  
> Lothric is a town like Firelink, and both Anri and Horace are from it.  
> I'm not really good at developing characters and do more...introspective, emotions-related stuff, so this may be kinda eh  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. I did, at least.


	10. A Mission Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein has to go check up on Seath, and make sure he is sane, so he decides to bring some companions with him.  
> Maybe he should have gone alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is more silly, and I guess also more boring..? I dunno.

A strange group of people were walking up the hill that lead to the incredulously big mansion that was home to Seath the Scaleless. 

"So, uh...why are we going to visit Seath?" Hawkwood asked. 

"Cause I have to." Ornstein was in a pretty bad mood today. 

"But I'm not you." 

"No, but you are part of the Warriors of Sunlight, and as such, owe loyalty to me so long as the Firstborn is absent." 

"But...you aren't a...warrior, you know?" 

"Not anymore, but I am still under Milord's trust, to be bestowed control over everyone in the covenant." 

Hawkwood looked at Rhea, beside her. Ornstein was in a really bad mood, and none of them knew why. Gael, maybe, who was walking behind them, hunched back to a dangerous degree and smiling, with his eyes hidden. 

"Would you..." Rhea started, but Ornstein didn't let her finish. 

"Look, as Gwyn's knight it's also my job to make sure Seath doesn't start shooting down crystals towards the city or some other shit, and I hate it." 

"And may I ask why you decided to bring us with you?" Rhea's tone was polite, but she also didn't want to be there. 

"So you can check everything else, and we can be done faster while I talk with Seath." 

"But why us?" Hawkwood was annoyed, he had been smiling at the prospect of gaming with Siegward for most of the day, and spending the night at the Trove, like they did every Saturday. 

"Rhea is here to prevent everything from going wrong, Gael is here to save your asses if everything goes wrong, and you're here because you haven't been doing anything for two weeks." 

Hawkwood frowned even more than usual, and glared at Ornstein. "It's not my fault if the only requests are to walk dogs, do some laundry or pick up their daughters at 8 or some shit." 

Ornstein didn't even look back. "Not your fault, but your duty. Now come on, be like Gael and shut up." 

And so they did. They kept walking, and the mansion grew bigger with every step. Rhea wondered what business did Ornstein, the captain of Gwyn's Knights, had to do in there. Seath the Scaleless had brouth nothing but improvement and benefits to the town, with his crystal magic powering basically everything used by everyone. It was known that the dragon had left his brethren, but in Rhea's mind, he'd more than made up for his treacherous nature in the past. Plus, Griggs and Big Hat Logan worked in the mansion, doing what she didn't know, but they were her friends nonetheless. She trusted them not to be in the company of a madman. 

A small gate led to a narrow corridor, which they entered, and where led to a relatively big hall, with a gate leading to an even bigger place, filled with bookshelves and people running to and fro. There were scary golems that seemed to be made of ice, or crystals, in this case, and lastly, there was a man with a trident and a strange outfit, with a really weird-looking helm, with six pairs of eyes. Rhea had heard stories from Bishop Havel about men like this, serving the infinitely traitorous and maniacal Seath, kidnapping young girls at night, and killing their parents and brothers in a single strike, with their trident. She'd been told this story when she was six, however, so she imagined that the Bishop's intentions were to convince her to pray to the Allfather before sleeping, especially as the only thing this channeler did was look at the little men, and shout an order once or twice. 

Ornstein told them to wait in the hall, while he went and talked with the channeler. Hawkwood spent the time making jokes with Gael, as the two seemed to be acquainted beforhand, something that surprised the cleric. Gael was something of a legend, being impossibly old, yet he was known for helping the Darkmoon Blades, Blue Sentinels and even the Warriors of Sunlight a number of times, it is even said he ventured into Oolacile daily, being one of the few people to return from that place. 

A little while later, she saw a familiar face. Griggs, with a strange uniform, came to them, holding many books, and many weird artifacts in his hands. 

"Hey, guys. You're here with Ornstein, right?" 

Rhea nodded while Hawkwood muttered a perfectly audible 'unfortunately'. Gael said nothing. 

"Well, I'm here to guide you through the mansion." 

Hawkwood grunted. "Why?" 

Griggs blinked. "You're here with Ornstein, yes? Then you're here to check up on...well, everything, yes?" 

Hawkwood didn't really answer, but Rhea explained that the Dragonslayer was in a bad mood, and didn't give them much details about what they were doing here. 

"Oh, that's no problem. I'll explain it to you while we go through the Archives, so we don't waste time." 

And so they did. Griggs led them through corridors, stairs, more corridors and even more stairs, and Rhea was sure they'd passed through every room at least twice, especially since they were all so similar. 

"So, as you may know, Mr Scaleless researches crystals, and he developed what we now call magic, which is used in many objects of our daily lives and whatnot. However, it is also true that Mr Scaleless is...how to say this..." 

"Mad?" Hawkwood tried to help. 

"Eh...In a sense, yes, but no...he's completely aware of his actions, the consequences, his reasoning is fine, and he's fine, really, but sometimes his intentions become twisted, and he has a tendency to go berserk when something goes wrong. And many things go wrong in here." 

Rhea caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a garden, outside, and to her surprise, it was filled with more crystal golems, who were carrying things back and forth to somewhere she couldn't see. 

"So, Ornstein has the duty to come once per month and make sure that Mr Scaleless is still able to direct the company." 

Rhea nodded, and decided to be curious. "What kind of stuff happens inside here?" 

"Well, for one, we research crystals. I imagine you saw the Channelers, men with weird outfits and tridents?" Everyone nodded at this. "Right. The Channelers direct all of the corpses you saw befo-" 

"Excuse me??" Rhea stopped, and bumped onto Hawkwood from behind, and she would have fallen to the ground had it not been by one of those little men. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the man was almost fully naked, and crystals filled his bluish body. She stared at her saviour in horror, who simply walked away. 

"What is it?" Griggs seemed unaffected by what had just happened. 

Rhea gulped, and tried to collect herself. "C..corps...co.." Griggs only stared at her, blinking, but then he laughed a little. 

"Oh, yes. I've been here so long I forgot. The workers in here are either the crystal golems you saw before, or corpses, imbued with crystals and magic so they can complete tasks. It is dangerous, to work here, so normal people like me are only present in non-manual labor, like developing and teaching magic, or-" 

"YOU CAN BRING CORPSES BACK TO LIFE?!?!" Hearing her, everyone stopped what they were doing, even Gael raised his head, until Griggs explained.

"No, no, not exactly." He laughed nervously. "Mr Scaleless used the crystals to make corpses be able to follow orders and solve problems that could arise, but they remember nothing from their past lives, and neither do they have a will of their own." 

Rhea stood there, not entirely sure what to do. "Then...that...corpse, why..." 

"Why did it stop you from falling?" Rhea nodded. "They have been told to keep sentient beings inside the mansion safe, which extends to minor bruises that could form from hitting the ground. Technically, they are highly intelligent because of the ridiculous amount of magic they've been imbued with, but they can't think anything on their own. A pity, I suppose, but it is they way things must be..." Rhea stayed silent, she didn't fully agree with the use of corpses, but she didn't dwell on it. 

They kept going until they went through a door, down a ladder, and down through spiraling stairs, with many rooms on the side, at the end reaching an empty circular space. There were bars on these, separating a small section of the rom they were in, and Rhea could see another ladder, that led to a small platform, filled with different objects she didn't recognize, and weirdly enough, a really old-looking gramophone. 

"Here is where we develop new spells!" Griggs was smiling from pure pride. "Those are the rooms in which we either sleep ourselves, sometimes, or keep test subjects. There was this one time we had to do both, it was really disgusting, especially since the corpses don't actually need to sleep, and they kept making noises all night. We tried to tell them to stop, but it was pretty unsuccessfull." Hawkweed winced at the prospect of sleeping with corpses, and Gael laughed a bit at him. "In that cage over there we keep the Pisaca that we use in case anyone is in danger." He pointed towards the small space, separated by bars, and Rhea could indeed see many strange-looking creatures, who seemed to be...sleeping? However, there was something strange. 

"Why's the cage open?" 

"Because the Pisaca are always sleeping. We use the gramophone to wake them up, then we climb the ladder so they can't reach us. The Pisaca become enraged and attack anyone near them, including ourselves." 

"Surely...there's a better way to handle things, right?" Griggs opened his mouth, but a loud noise interrupted his response. 

"AND DO NOT, UNDER ANY CONDITION TOUCH THE DAMN GRAMOPHONE. YOU HEAR ME, LAD?!?" Big Hat Logan's voice echoed through the place. 

The group looked over to where Logan was, atop the platform, where he was shouting at Rickert's face, who seemed only slightly annoying for how loud Logan was. 

''I told you I got it, Logan, please, take out your damn hat so you can listen..." 

"Master Logan! Rickert!" Griggs waved at them, and Logan turned, while he was taking out his hat. Rickert smiled slightly. 

"What are you doing, Griggs!? You're meant to be watching over the Golems at the cave!" 

"I'm going, Master, but first I was assigned to guide Hawkwood, Rhea, and Mr Gael through the place!" 

"WHY?!?" 

"They're here with Ornstein!" 

Logan stopped shouting, and he put on his hat again. He nodded, and kept talking with Rickert. 

After that strange encounter, Griggs led them to the garden, where The recognized the Golems carrying things to and from a place she could see, that Griggs called 'the Cave.' However, more than that she was interested in Logan, so she inquired Griggs about it. 

"Master Logan has told me that he hates Mr Scaleless, and wishes that the old dragon was expelled from the company. He hopes that in these inspections, Ornstein will find something bad to report to the Lord, so he's in a good mood whenever Ornstein comes." 

"That sounds like something you shouldn't talk about in the open." Hawkwood commented. 

"As true as that is, I can't bring myself to lie. And besides, I trust you all. And the Golems won't hear us unless we directly address them. You can thank Master Logan for that." None of them was entirely sure what Griggs meant at the last part, so they stayed in silence. 

Griggs led them to the Cave, which on the inside looked like one of those factories Rhea had been told about when she was young, with conveyor belts everywhere, and machines doing things at amazing speeds with incredible precision, but instead of human workers, the place was filled with Golems, some of them golden, and there were enormous creatures, that looked like butterflies, who would sometimes direct strange-looking beams to different objects everywhere. Hawkweed pestered Griggs with questions, as he was interested in technicalities, and how everything worked in the place, and the young man did his best to answer most of the questions. 

However, the strangest thing of all came when they reached an open space, filled with really big clams everywhere on the ground. At the far end, next to a wall of bluish rock, was a thin, tall crystal that seemed so shine. 

"That..." Griggs breathed heavily, for some reason. "...is the Primordial Crystal." 

"What does it do?" Hawkwood asked, while walking casually towards it. 

"It...is the source of Seath the Scaleless' power, and the original magical crystal. From that crystal you see there, an ancient treasure belonging to the old dragons, once the enemies of mankind, came all of the magic used today by us in our daily lives, as well as the immortality that allowed Seath to develop many beneficial artifacts, as well as delve deep into the world of magic, to help mankind flourish in every imaginable way." He then sighed, and in a lower tone, he added, "I've said that stupid line many times..." 

"And is it true?" Rhea inquired. 

"What's true?" 

"What you said." 

"Well...it is the origin of magic, and it grants immortality to Mr Scaleless, yes, but that's about it. Everything else has been developed by Logan, or scholars from Vinheim like myself, who come here frequently to help us in magical research. It's been quite a while since Mr Scaleless has done anything truly important, although his past efforts are nothing to scoff at." 

While they spoke, Hawkwood had gotten closer to the Primordial Crystal, with Gael following closely behind, and he extended his hand to touch it, seemingly hypnotized by the crystal's glow. When Griggs noticed, his face mutated from sheer horror, and he shouted at Hawkwood. 

"HAWKWOOD, DON'T!" 

But it was too late, for Hawkwood had already passed his palm through the crystal's surface. Immediately, an alarm went off, seemingly everywhere, and the clams that had been on the ground, opened, grew legs, stood up and faced Hawkwood. They all started running towards him as fast as they could, while the man in question seemed surprised by the turn of events. He quickly withdrew his hand and took out his Farron greatsword, but instead of the dagger he took out his bastard sword. The clams charged at him, but Hawkweed stood his ground, which proved to be a mistake, as the clams were far too many, and he was soon pushed to a wall, with scars all over his body from the clam's pointy feet. Rhea tried to get close to him, but Griggs stopped her, she didn't know why. However, just before the clams could get even closer to Hawkwood, _something_ sliced all of them in half. Not even two seconds later, they saw Gael, his sword unsheathed, helping Hawkwood lean into his shoulder. 

"What is happening?" Rhea asked Griggs, in a mix of surprise and fear. 

Griggs breathed to calm down, and then answered. "The clams are there to ensure nothing and no now touches the crystal. It is forbidden, and now we won't be allowed to get out of here because of Hawkwood's idiocy..." He feel to the ground, or he would have, hadn't Rhea stopped him and made him stand up straight. Griggs seemed distraught, and it made sense, but she had to know how bad was the situation.

"Griggs, can you lead us out of here?" 

He looked at her, and took a while to answer, while Gael reached them with Hawkwood. "I can lead you back, sure, but now every corpse, golem, the Channelers, I bet they're even gonna set the Pisaca against us...and the Crystalized Warrior...this is bad...even Seath himself is going to try and kill us..." 

Rhea didn't quite answer. It was the first time she was in any real danger, and inside, she was just as fearful as Griggs and did't know what to do. Gael, however, took the lead. 

"Rhea, I need you to heal Hawkwood." She nodded, and collected her thought to start doing exactly that. "Griggs, I know you have a spell that numbs sound, can you cast it on all of us?" Griggs stared at Gael, but he then took his catalyzer, which had a bluish glow to it, and concentrated in order to cast the spell. Gael nodded. "Alright then. Hawkwood, if we're getting out of here, I need you to be brighter than before, understood?" Hawkweed managed to nod, Rhea's healing had gotten him to a better shape, but he was still beaten. "Perfect. Now then, Griggs, lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep.  
> It's a two-parter.  
> This dragged on for longer than expected, and I don't wanna make something kilometric. Next chapter should be more interesting.  
> Basically, everything in Firelink is powered by magic the same way we use electricity or gas. And Seath takes care of imbuing everything with magic. So yeah.  
> It should be said that pyromancy is also used by some to power their stuff, but I haven't made a chapter with any of the pyromancer characters yet.  
> I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but Hawkwood, being a Warrior of Sunlight in here, receives requests to help people with normal, mundane things. And he doesn't want to, hence Ornstein wants him to go with him.


End file.
